From Rampant Rabbit to Holy Habit
by beckysparkles
Summary: Bella is a promiscuous girl. Sexy and beautiful, she can have any man she wants, and usually does. That is until she meets Edward.  Handsome, perfect, and completely unobtainable because...well, you will have to read to find out. Rated M. AH.
1. Chapter 1

**Thanks Leanne Golightly and Isabel Southwell for being my betas. You wonderful women!**

**Disclaimer. I own nothing but my twisted mind.**

From Rampant Rabbit to Holy Habit

Bella's POV

As I open my eyes, it takes a moment to focus on a broad, flat, muscular back. I know that back. Jacob Black. My "fall back." My best friend with benefits.

Last night is a drunken haze—I remember dancing, there was always dancing, and shots—they were a given, too. And men—lots of them. The presence of Jacob, however, means that none of them were attractive enough to take home. I stretch out, feeling that post orgasmic ache from my fingertips to the tips of my toes, and a little groan escapes me. Jacob stirs at the sound, and that's my cue to get to the shower. Quick.

You see, I have this rule: I only sleep with Jacob if we have both been drinking. That way, I can blame it on the drink. Okay 'sleep' is pushing it — not a lot of sleeping ever takes place. Jacob has been in love with me from the age of twelve. I know it, he knows I know it, but I pretend not to , so that he has to pretend he doesn't know that I know. It's complicated, but hell, the sex is worth it. If he tells me that he loves me—well, then it stops, neither of us want it to stop. So he says nothing and it's win win.

I reach for the huge white bath towel that's on the chair next to my bed, hoping we haven't used it to 'clean up' last night, and I make my way to the bathroom.

The hot water eases my hangover, washing away the sweat, and the scent of Jacob which still clings to my skin.

He will leave while I'm in the shower, because that's how we do this. He gets fabulous sex, and I get a great body to take home if there is nothing better on offer. The only rule is that we act as though nothing has happened the next morning. It's mean, but hell, I have never heard him complain.

Today is Sunday , and that means church. I'm a catholic girl, even if I'm not a good one. So every Sunday I attend church and confess to poor Father Aro, who at ninety-two, turns green at the sight of me, never knowing what I will confess this week. I do my Hail Mary's and all is forgiven; my slate is wiped clean ready to get dirty again.

After my shower, I rifle through my wardrobe looking for a suitable church outfit. The problem with wanting to look as hot as hell all the time, is, it leaves little choice when you're trying to look demure. I settle for a button-up flowered dress; it shows a little too much cleavage and is a smidgen too short, but a pair of pumps and a flower in my hair makes it more sweet than sexy.

I grab an apple for breakfast, and then I'm out the door. I walk to church—grabbing a cab in beautiful weather like this just doesn't make sense to me. The sun feels great on my bare arms, and I trail my hand along iron railings running alongside the sidewalk as I walk along. I muse over the phone call from my father that had been the catalyst of last night's drunken escapades.

"You're twenty-seven, Isabella, time to stop messing around and settle down already. I want some grandbabies."

I could hear his words so clearly in my head he may as well have been standing next to me. Thankfully, he was back in Forks. I loved my father, but since I'd moved away at eighteen , he didn't know, or understand me. Settling down was something I never intended to do. I had watched my friends fall in love, get married, and have babies-then it was either divorce or someone had an affair.

There was a time when I had been a hopeless romantic, wanting desperately to fall in love, but it never happened and I had realised that romance was hopeless. These days I was a hardened cynic. Sex, drinking and dancing—they were the things I loved, and in that order.

Then my musing came to an abrupt end, as the church loomed in front of me huge and imposing. Entering the doors with a deep breath, I let the guilt begin

Edwards POV.

She walks through the church doors and takes my breath away. She looks angelic, a beautiful angel standing there in the church doorway, with sun glistening on her skin.

She heads towards a booth and I know I have to speak to her. I am compelled by a force stronger than my own will. I sit opposite, my view obscured, but it doesn't matter. When she opens her mouth to speak, her voice is like chiming bells.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

"Tell me, my child," I reply.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thanks to my betas Leanne Golightly and Isabel Southwell. You girls are wonderful**_

_**Disclaimer . I own nothing except my twisted mind.**_

…_She walks through the church doors and takes my breath away. She looks angelic, a beautiful angel standing there in the door way, with the sun glistening on her skin. She heads towards a booth and I know I have to speak to her. I was compelled by a force stronger than my own will. I sit opposite, my view obscured, but it doesn't matter. When she opens her mouth to speak, her voice is like chiming bells._

"_Forgive me Father for I have sinned."_

"_Tell me my child." I reply._

Bella's POV.

Now hold on a minute. That's not the frail, trepid voice that I usually hear at confession. This voice is smooth and deep. This is a voice that makes you sit up and listen. This voice is sexy. Can you say a priest's voice is sexy? Well, it is. It's a sexy voice.

"Father, I have taken the Lord's name in vain this week—on many occasions." Let's start him off easy. With Father Aro, I would usually dive right in with the gory stuff: the drinking and sex. Actually, I had been taking the Lord's name in vain during sex, but I don't want to hit him with that double whammy during our first time together. What would he think of me?

"Is there anything else, my child?" he asks.

"Yes, father. I was awful to my father during an argument and blasphemed. " This is also pretty tame. By now, I would usually be onto positions and locations, but something had me feeling a little shy. It was that voice, I realize, that Goddamn (sorry) sexy voice! I want the owner of that voice to think well of me. No more confessing for me today. I reason that I will come back later, and seek out Father Aro.

"Go on, my child."

I wonder if the rest of him is as sexy as that voice?

"That's all, Father."

"Then say ten Hail Mary's, my child, and your sins shall be forgiven."

"Thank you, Father,"

Usually after I have paid penance for my sins, I'm out of this place like a shot. Today though, I'm loitering, and I know why. I want to catch a glimpse of the owner of that voice.

Kneeling in a pew, I pretend to pray. I'm sure that I'm actually committing some sort of sin right now— pretending to pray so that I can perv on a priest. Not good, not good at all, but I continue anyway.

My knees begin to protest. It's not that I'm not used to this position; it's just that usually I have a pillow. The old lady next to me has a pillow, with a little cross stiched on it, saying., 'A prayer a day keeps Satan away.' The little woman is praying hard, her head bowed and her lips are moving.

I look down the pew. The church is pretty full today. Admittedly, I never stay this long, but I notice that there are a lot of woman here. There are a few cleavages on show and some short skirts. I'm not the only one waiting for the new priest, or so it seems.

The confessional booth opens.

"Hallelujah," says the old woman beside me.

I couldn't have put it better myself.

The man is sex on legs! Messy hair, come to bed eyes, and a slightly crooked nose that just adds to his charm. I fancy him instantly. Shit! (Sorry. Note to self: stop swearing in church.) The guy's wearing what is basically a dress, and he is still the best looking man I have ever seen.

Oh, Hell, (sorry) I fancy my priest. No, it's more than fancy…I have fallen in lust! I have never wanted anyone so much in my life.

Rising from my pew, I head towards him, wanting to introduce myself. I want to know his name. I want to hear his voice again. I want to shake his hand. I want to lick… (Sorry! Note to self number two: no impure thoughts about my priest while I'm still in the house of God.)

I sashay towards him, confident in my ability to attract the opposite sex. Suddenly, I'm shoved out the way by none other than the old lady who had been praying next to me. She is followed by many others. All making a beeline for _my priest._

I catch his eye above the heads of the simpering women between us. I smile. He smiles back. My insides go funny-that smile could make me c…

I need to get out of church right now, before God strikes me down where I stand!

Fresh air fills my lungs. I take another deep breath, and it clears my head. Fancying a priest! Well it can't happen, so I will just put him in the little fantasy drawer in my head to be pulled out when needed.

All day I find my thoughts straying towards him. I wish that I had found out his name. I have christened him Father Fuckable—I figure that I can only use this name while I'm not in church. As that's only one hour once a week, it shouldn't be to hard, and yet, I have the desire to return to the church and take another look.

I can't, though, as I have plans—drinks with my best friend, Rose, and her husband, Emmett. Newlyweds. It's going to be a long hard slog to get through all that face-sucking and hip-grinding, but we have been best friends for ten years —so, for her, I can at least try.

Maybe a little time in church would fill me with the patience needed? Maybe. I check my watch. Is church even open past 8pm? I honestly have no idea.

I will go tomorrow, as I didn't have my full confession today. Looking forward to church for the first time in my life, I get ready for my night with Rose and Emmett.

Edwards POV.

Her confession was so sweet and innocent. I find myself hoping that she will still be in church when confession is over. I would like to know her better—as a member of the church, of course.

I see her. She smiles at me and it's radiant. I return the smile, hoping that she will come and tell me her name. She suddenly looks horrified, turns, then leaves. I would like to follow, but I have many members of the church wanting to talk to me, so I cannot.

I find my thoughts straying to her throughout the day.

As evening arrives, I prepare to see my old friend, Emmett, and I can't help but wonder when I shall see that sweet girl again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to my wonderful beta's who also happen to be wonderful writers too, so check them out.**

**Leanne Golightly and Isabel Southwell.**

**Disclaimer I own nothing but my twisted mind.**

_Her confession was so sweet and innocent. I find myself hoping that she will still be in church when confession is over. I would like to know her better—as a member of the church, of course. _

_I see her. She smiles at me and it's radiant. I return the smile, hoping that she will come and tell me her name. She suddenly looks horrified, turns, then leaves. I would like to follow, but I have many members of the church wanting to talk to me, so I cannot. _

_I find my thoughts straying to her throughout the day. _

_As evening arrives, I prepare to see my old friend, Emmett, and I can't help but wonder when I shall see that sweet girl again._

Bella's POV

Boobs pushed up? Check.

Legs on show? Check.

Lips glossed within an inch of their life? Check.

Being as hot as I am...priceless.

I'm ready for my night out, and boy do I need it. My priest has been on my mind all day. How the hell does such an attractive man end up in the Church? I think he must be gay. Okay, so this is a sweeping assumption but honestly, if he owns a mirror, he must realize, that he looks like a movie star.

I figure he was raised catholic, and realized that he was gay, didn't want to disappoint his parents or be forced to marry a woman, and so he became a priest. You see, that's how much he has been on my mind—I have given him a life story.

I put on the final part of my outfit—killer heels—and then slip a pair of flip-flops into my bag. After dancing all night, if you can't get a cab, flats are a life saver for the walk home. I make my way outside to wait for Rosalie and Emmett to pick me up. We are going to a new club called Eclipse. It's meant to be amazing—all the décor is black, white, and red. It apparently plays lots of old eighties music; It's exactly the kind of place Rosalie and I love.

The cab pulls up beside me, and I jump in beside my beautiful BFF. I pull her into a bear hug. I haven't seen her in four weeks, an all time record for us. In fairness, she was on her honeymoon, so I guess I can forgive her.

"I'm getting in on this action," says Emmett, and gives us both a squeeze.

"Get off, you big goof," Rosalie says laughing and pushing him away.

"You've had her all to yourself for the past four weeks, so share, please." I say, and jab him in the arm playfully.

"Yeah, and didn't you enjoy it, baby!" Emmett gives a hearty laugh, and Rosalie's backside a pinch for good measure as she giggles. I can't help but roll my eyes.

"Get a room, you two. I do not want to see that shit."

"Jealous?" Emmett gives a suggestive eyebrow wiggle, and it earns him another jab in the arm—this time from Rosalie.

Emmett rubs his arm whilst blowing a kiss at Rosalie. It's her turn to roll her eyes.

Soon we are chatting easily about everything we have missed over the last four weeks. Rosalie and Emmett both left their cells at home during their honeymoon, saying they only wanted to contact each other - I know weird, right?

The whole cab journey, we don't stop talking, and they don't stop holding hands. I guess it's sweet, and they do look as though they are made for each other. Rosalie is all blonde and beautiful, and Emmett all tall dark and handsome—and get this, she's a midwife and he's a gynecologist. You couldn't make that shit up; it was just too funny. It provides me with hours of jokes about what they were both staring at all day.

As we jump out of the cab, Emmett finally gets a word in between our incessant chatter.

"By the way, Bella. I've asked a friend to join us. I hope you don't mind?_" _

You have got to be freaking kidding me! Ever since my mid-twenties, when all of my single friends had started to settle down, they had all been trying to make me jump on the band wagon with one disastrous blind date after another. I can't help but grind my teeth in frustration as I plaster a fake smile on my face to give my reply, but it seems there is no need. Emmett beats me to it.

"It's _definitely not _a blind date, Bella. Just an old friend who has recently moved here and doesn't know anyone. So chill—I swore last time to never set you up again and I meant it."

I couldn't help but let out a giggle. Last time. Yes, I remembered that clearly. A bespectacled junior Gynaecologist called Eric, who had offered me a free exam, and had then received an impromptu cold shower when I poured my drink over the top of his head.

"Okay, Emmett. I believe you, but if you _are_ lying to me, you _will _be sorry."

"That's okay, Bella. I brought a spare shirt—just in case." Emmett quips. I roll my eyes again, but Emmett takes no notice.

"Ladies," he says, and offers us both an arm as we enter the club.

It is as amazing as I was lead to believe. It looks smart and sexy, and some early Madonna is playing. We find a table and settle down. I instantly start scanning the club for talent, spying Jacob on the dance floor, but I don't think he has seen me...yet. I swear he is stalking me. I shouldn't have mentioned I was coming here tonight, but then again, none of the guys looked particularly hot so far. So who knows?

"What are you drinking, Bella? Rose?" Emmett asks us.

"Make mine a vodka and cranberry," I reply and then turning to Rosalie. "Should I make that two?" Rosalie shakes her head 'no'.

"Just cranberry juice for me please, honey," she tells Emmett with a contented smile, and they share a loving look.

"Okay, ladies. Don't miss me too much while I'm gone. I'm going to get these drinks, and then scan around

for Edward. He should be here soon." Emmett heads off in the direction of the bar, and I look at Rosalie.

"You're not drinking?"

"No."

"Going to tell me why?"

"No"

"Can I guess?"

"Yes"

"Are you pregnant?"

"_Yes_!"

Suddenly, my arms are full of Rosalie as I'm enveloped into a hug. She is laughing and smiling, and so am I. My best friend is having a baby. Wow. I'm not keen on babies, but this is my best friend, and her biggest wish has always been to be a mom. Who wouldn't be happy for her?

She whispers in my ear. "Emmett doesn't want to tell anyone yet. I'm hardly pregnant at all."

"You didn't tell me—I guessed."

"Exactly." We are both giggling again like little school girls.

That's when Emmett came back.

"Bella, I want to introduce you to my friend. Edward." I turn around ready to play nice, at least, for a while.

Oh my God! Its Father Fuckable in the flesh, and looking finer than ever. I think my heart actually stutters; I know my words do.

"I...hello…we have… err…I already know…"

"It's nice to see you again, and finally know your name," my priest says. Holding out a hand toward me. I take it and smile.

"Yes, you, too…Edward." His hand is cool and smooth, and I probably hold it a fraction longer than I should. He doesn't seem to mind. Suddenly, my night just got a whole lot better.

Edwards POV.

I can't wait to see Emmett. It has been years. We were really close as children, but lost touch when we took different career paths. I had seen his wedding announcement though, and had gotten in touch. I spotted him at the bar.

"Make mine a beer," I say and slap him on the back.

"Can you drink?" he asks. I have to laugh.

"Yes, Emmett. I'm allowed to drink, so order that beer, okay?"

"Okay, okay. _err. . . _Edward,"

"Yes?"

"You're not wearing your collar."

"No." I laugh again. "I'm still a normal guy."

"Apart from the celibacy—that, my friend, is not normal." Emmett smiles to show that no offence is intended and none is taken. He hands me my beer.

"Come on, man. I can't wait for you to meet my wife."

"Emmett, I have met Rosalie before."

"I know, but this is the first time you have met her as my wife. Oh, and her best friend, Bella, is here, but don't worry she's cool." Laughing again, I gesture for him to lead the way. I can see Rosalie sitting with a dark haired girl. As we get closer, I realize that she seems familiar; it's the beautiful girl from confession.

"Bella, I want to introduce you to my friend, Edward," says Emmett.

"I...hello…we have… err…I already know…" The poor girl seems flustered. Perhaps she is uncomfortable socializing with me, so I try to put her at ease.

"It's nice to see you again, and finally know your name."

"Yes, you, too…Edward," she says. I offer her my hand, which she takes. Her hand is hot and smooth; it seems to shoot heat up my arm. We both hold the grip a fraction too long, though she doesn't seem to mind. More worryingly, neither do I.

**A/N Okay Ladies (maybe men too?) I know your out there from all the favorites and alerts I have had. Thanks so much and maybe this time you could leave a review. Do you also fancy Edward dressed as a priest? Am I just a lonely pervert or are we in this together, lol xx**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks to the wonderful woman who beta for me, Leanne Golightly and Isabel Southwell, and all you fellow perverts who review ;-)**

**Disclaimer-I own nothing but my twisted mind.**

"_Bella, I want to introduce you to my friend, Edward," says Emmett._

"_I...hello…we have… err…I already know…" The poor girl seems flustered. Perhaps she is uncomfortable socializing with me, so I try to put her at ease._

"_It's nice to see you again, and finally know your name." _

"_Yes, you, too…Edward," she says. I offer her my hand, which she takes. Her hand is hot and smooth; it seems to shoot heat up my arm. We both hold the grip a fraction too long, though she doesn't seem to mind. More worryingly, neither do I._

Bella's POV

I can't stop staring; I mean literally can't stop. He must think I am mentally unsound. He looks—amazing. He isn't wearing a dog collar, but he is all in black and he is fuck hot!

"So Bella, how do you already know Edward?" asks Rose.

"Church." I manage to mutter, but I don't make eye contact.

I'm still staring, he has amazing lips. Emmett begins to choke on his drink.

"You go to church?" he splutters, his eyes bulging out of his head.

"Every Sunday." I reply. I'm still staring.

Edward smiles at my answer. "Like a good catholic girl."

Now it's Rose's turn to choke on her drink. I finally tear my eyes away—but only because I turn to give Rose a death glare. With one look I silently get my message across. "Not a word."

As I look back I try not to look into his face, if I make eye contact, I will lose all hope of not looking like a fruit loop—I can't stop staring, and he'll think I have something wrong with me. I look for something else, anything else, that will hold my gaze—wait. . . Is that a nipple?

It is.

Oh, God. Now, I'm staring at the outline of his nipple. I can see it through his shirt, just an outline, and it makes me want to lick my lips. That's it it's official—I am a pervert. A priest-lusting pervert.

I realize that there is a drink in front of me, grabbing it, I take a huge gulp, and the vodka warms my system and calms me a little.

My eyes leave his nipple and travel to the top of his shirt. No collar? I wonder what that means. I continue upwards, drinking in his beauty. What a smile. It makes me blush. Me. . . blush? I haven't blushed since I was thirteen.

I take another gulp of my drink and attempt conversation.

"How do you know Emmett?" I realize that I sound very abrupt and rude, but honestly, I'm just impressed that I managed to form a coherent sentence and keep my eyes off his nipple.

"We grew up together, at the same orphanage, but we only got back in touch when I saw his wedding announcement a few months back. Dr Emmett —I never thought I would see the day." Edward gave Emmett a sly nudge in the arm.

"Well we couldn't all be Father Carlisle's favorite, now could we? I knew I would do alright. It was everyone else who didn't." Emmett laughed. Edward turned to Rose.

"The nun's all despaired of him—always in trouble, never doing as he was told. Has he changed at all?"

"Not a bit and I wouldn't have him any other way."

"Aww, thanks baby." Emmett leaned in for a kiss and I caught Edwards eye, he smiled again and I return the gesture, even though what I wanted to do was make a gagging gesture at such a public display of affection.

"So Bella. You already know what I do far a living, so please, if you don't mind me asking, what do _you_ do?" Edward asked

"I'm a vet, an equine vet to be precise."

"Are there a lot of horses in Seattle?"

"More than you would think."

"So do you ride?" Edward asks, and he honestly means it as a perfectly normal question. There's not even the hint of a smirk on his face.

Once you tell men you work with horses, they inevitably ask you about your riding abilities. I have heard them all, from the question Edward just asked, in a suggestive manner to a blatant : "I have a huge beast that you can have between your thighs," yet here was this incredibly sexy man asking me if I ride and he isn't being suggestive at all. I wish he was, though— God, how I wish he was.

"As often as I can." I reply and it takes all my restraint not to make it quite clear that I'm not talking about horses at all.

"Yes Bella has loved to ride for as long as I can remember" Rose chimes in. She has a completely straight face, but I can see the small twitch above her eye that gives away the fact that she is going to burst into hysterical laughter at any moment. Hearing Whitney Houston's "I want to dance with somebody" I grab Rose's hand.

"Lets dance." I say.

"No thanks Bella, I'm having fun talking to Edward." Rose says and gives me an innocent smile. Oh, she is so not getting away with that. I squeeze her fingers _really_ hard.

"Please." I say, but my face and actions clearly say, "now".

"Spoilsport" Rose mouths, and follows me to the dance floor.

Bopping away to Whitney I can't help but glance back at Edward, I think I'm being discreet but Rose laughs.

She points at me—you.

She puts her hand over her heart—love.

She points at Edward—him.

I use sign language of my own, by giving her the finger.

Leaning in close she speaks into my ear. "He is hot Bella, but honestly, even you can't pull a priest."

"Is that a bet?"

"Yes Bella it is, I bet that by the time I have this baby you can't get Edward into bed."

"Your on, If I win, you have to give your baby the middle name 'Danger' ." I say grinning evilly.

"And if I win you have to…become a nun."

We both fall about in hysterical laughter, knowing that neither of us will keep our side of the bargain. I glance at Edward once again and he is looking at me. I want to beckon him over with my finger to come and dance. I wonder if he will?

**Edwards POV**

I watch Bella go to the dance floor. What a beautiful, intriguing woman. She seems a little shy talking to me, almost like she can't look me in the eye. As I watch her move and laugh with Rose I feel like a sweet poison is entering my veins. I can't take my eyes from her; No woman has ever had such a profound effect on me. She beckons me with her finger to join her on the dance floor. I turn to Emmett who has a wicked grin on his face.

"Lets dance!" he declares.

**A/N So what are you thinking? Is Edward getting a little hot under the collar?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer. I own nothing. **

_I watch Bella go to the dance floor. What a beautiful, intriguing woman. She seems a little shy talking to me, almost like she can't look me in the eye. As I watch her move and laugh with Rose I feel like a sweet poison is entering my veins. I can't take my eyes from her; No woman has ever had such a profound effect on me. She beckons me with her finger to join her on the dance floor. I turn to Emmett who has a wicked grin on his face._

_"Lets dance!" he declares._

**Bella's POV**

I cant believe I just made a sexy 'come hither' finger motion to a priest. More to the point, I can't believe it worked.

So now here I am dancing, with a priest—and, I mean really dancing; there's eye contact and we are so close I can feel the heat from his body. Yet not once have we touched. It's like there is nobody else on the dance floor but us. It's a complete cliché I know, but what's a girl to do when a man is this fine.

We must have been dancing at least thirty minutes when his hand _finally_ touches me. . . on my elbow. Having my elbow touched has never turned me on before, but let me tell you, on this occasion that one touch sent heat sweeping through my body. Unfortunately, he was touching my elbow to steer me towards the bar for a drink rather than to the exit for a f. . . he leans in close to my ear—making me loose focus.

"Do you know that guy over there? He has been watching you the whole time we were dancing and giving me the serious stink eye."

Having him so close made me a little light headed so it took me a moment to process what he was saying. He leant away from me and waited for my answer. I didn't need to glance in the direction he had just nodded, to know that he was referring to Jacob. I looked anyway, and sure enough there he was, staring so intently at me that I'm surprised he hadn't burnt a hole through the back of my head.

"Oh, he is just a friend," I said trying to be completely blasé and failing miserably. Edward then turned to the bar tender and ordered our drinks. I took the opportunity to spin around and look at Jacob again. Catching his eye I shake my head. - No. I hope he will listen. Of course, he doesn't, and starts walking towards me. I turn my back on him and send up a silent prayer that he will just leave me alone.

I think God has a twisted sense of humour though because I feel Jacobs hand on my waist and then his breath on my ear as he stage whispers, "Hey, Bella Baby. how you doing tonight? Can you spare a dance for your old _friend _Jacob?" I don't turn around; I figure if I don't look at him maybe he will just disappear.

"Not tonight, Jacob." I answer through gritted teeth. Edward turns around with our drinks in his hand; I watch him raise his eyebrows questioningly at Jacob.

"Can I help you?" he asks. His tone is polite as is his expression. Yet I can sense somehow that underneath the polite exterior is a raging bull—and I like it.

"I'm a _friend _of Bella's. I was asking her to dance." I hate the way he says friend, implying that we are more. Which we are not - well, not tonight, at least. After this little performance, maybe never again. Jacob has snaked his hand around my wrist possessively and I snatch it away. I notice Edward tense as I do this.

"Well, I am sorry to disappoint you, but Bella's dance card is full this evening. I have claimed them all." He says this with complete assurance, then places our untouched drinks on the bar behind him. Edward turns to me and offers me his hand; I take it and look into his eyes, as he gives me a sly wink. Which, just for the record, is about the sexiest thing I have ever seen.

"Would you care to dance again, Bella?"

I don't need asking twice. I grab his hand like a drowning man grabs a life vest, and we venture once again to the dance floor. I don't look back. I don't want to see Jacob's face. I know there will be hurt there, but he knows the rules. It's not my fault he can't stick to them. Ignoring the stab of guilt I feel, I concentrate on the sexy gentleman who has taken my hand and led me back to the dance floor. He leans in to speak to me.

"Your friend seemed to be making you uncomfortable. I hope you didn't mind my claiming you . . . claiming your dance's."

"No. . . no, not at all. I'm all yours," I say and smile my most seductive smile. I can't help moving closer; it's as if there are magnets in us pulling us together. His hand snakes around my waist as we continue to dance. The song changes to a slow number and I fit my head comfortably beneath his chin, taking a look around the dance floor. The other couples are all over each other. The worst of which are Emmett and Rosalie, who seriously need to get a room. Others around us are nearly as bad. Squished together, hands all over each other—that is usually me.

Somehow I prefer this. There is an inch of space between us, he is holding one of my hands against his beating heart, and the other is on my waist. He makes me feel like a lady. Still I find myself wanting to close that inch of space between us. It is filled with heat and promise and I want to move into it. As if reading my mind, I watch him take a breath—his face seems to be confused but his hand tightens on my waist and pulls me that inch closer.

Oh, sweet Jesus. I can feel him, all of him, toned and hard, every inch, and a particular part of him harder than hard.

Oh

My

God

I don't think I can breath. It takes inhuman strength not to grind myself against him. I want to, but I'm watching his face, still utterly confused and heart-breakingly handsome. He must sense that I am watching him because he looks down at me then and smiles.

I think he's going to kiss me.

My life sucks though because that's the moment Jacob chooses to tap Edward on the shoulder, and as he turns around, punches him in the face.

"Get your hands off my girl," Jacob yells, standing over Edward who is out cold on the floor.

"Aww, Hell."

**Edwards POV**

I do not think that I should be here, and I certainly do not think that I should be dancing this close. However, I feel so protective of her. That hulk of a boy grabbed her wrist, and I found myself claiming her—to protect her, of course.

So now, I find myself with her in my arms. I will stop dancing when the boy stops staring.

I keep her a small distance away from me because the heat and scent from her body is driving me crazy. My senses are reeling. The effect she is having on my body is alarming—yet amazing. I want to pull her closer and close the gap between us.

I war with myself. One part of me is yearning to pull her that inch closer, to feel her against me.

The other is preying reverently to find the strength of character to deliver her to our friends and leave now.

I pull her closer. I think this may be what heaven is like, Sensing her eyes on me, staring at me—seeing my soul. An angel in my arms.

Someone taps me on my shoulder, and the next thing I see is a fist heading towards my face.

**A/N. Poor Edward, who wants to make him better? **

**Thanks to my beta's, you lovely women! **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer- I own nothing . . nothing at all.**

_I keep her a small distance away from me because the heat and scent from her body is driving me crazy. My senses are reeling. The effect she is having on my body is alarming—yet amazing. I want to pull her closer and close the gap between us._

_I war with myself. One part of me is yearning to pull her that inch closer, to feel her against me._

_The other is preying reverently to find the strength of character to deliver her to our friends and leave now._

_I pull her closer. I think this may be what heaven is like, Sensing her eyes on me, staring at me—seeing my soul. An angel in my arms._

_Someone taps me on my shoulder, and the next thing I see is a fist heading towards my face._

**Bella's POV**

I do not believe it. Jacob has knocked Edward out cold, and now he is standing over him like a demented cave man. I'm expecting him to knock me over the head with a club and drag me back to his dwelling at any moment.

"What the hell, Jacob?" I scream at him as I stoop over Edward, feeling his forehead and then his pulse. It suddenly occurs to me that perhaps I should give him the kiss of life.

"He had his hands all over you. You're my girl Bella."

"The hell I am, Jacob. Just get lost." I turn my back on him and concentrate only on Edward. A crowd is gathering around us, and I'm slightly worried he may get trampled. I lean over him protectively as other women try to rescue the handsome man on the floor.

A pretty red head in a shirt with the Club's logo on leans over him. "I'm Vicky, and I am trained in first aid. Let me look at him."

Reluctantly, I back off, however, she is far to pretty for my liking—and does she really need to hold her hand over his forehead that long?

I feel a hot hand snake around my wrist and yank me to my feet. Jacob is standing there looking sheepish. As I give him my best death glare, he drops my wrist and runs his hand through his hair. I'm pretty impressed that the death glare worked. I mean, I know I can be pretty scary when I get going, but Jacob is a huge guy.

Feeling a hand on my shoulder, and glancing round I see the real reason—Emmett.

"Man, you seriously did not just punch my friend in the face?" says Emmett, stepping in front of me.

"Sorry," mumbles Jacob.

"You should be, Jacob," I hiss, peaking around Emmett's shoulder. "His hands were not 'all over me'— he's a priest."

Jacob stands there, doing his best impression of a goldfish as he takes in what I'm saying.

"A priest?"

"Yes, Jacob. A priest." _Who I want more than anyone I have ever met, and from the _'_feel' of things before you rudely interrupted, he wants me too._

"Man, I had no idea." He looks at Emmett, "Honestly I'm really sorry. Jeez, a priest. I don't believe it."

"You'd better believe it, numb nuts, because I'm pretty sure that little stunt of yours just knocked your chances of getting into heaven," Emmett responds with a smirk.

A small groan from Edward directs my attention back to him. . . and that annoying red head who is still fawning over him. Not wanting her to be the first thing that he sees when he opens his eyes, I practically shove her out the way as I lean over him again.

"Edward?" I say gently, stroking his face with my finger tips. His eyes flutter open, one of which is already swelling up. His hand covers mine.

"Are you an angel?" he asks in a groggy voice.

_That_ was the exact moment that Father Edward Cullen stole my heart.

"That boy must have hit you hard because Bella is no angel—more of a horny little devil," says Emmett, and then laughs. "Come on, Edward. Up you get."

Emmett takes one of his arms and I take the other as we pull him back to his feet. He sways a little, but then gives his head a small shake.

In a low voice meant only for me, he says, "Well, you're an angel in my eyes."

I can't speak. I can't look at him. My heart is hammering, and I think I may be about to have a panic attack.

"I need some air," I practically screech and head for the exit.

Gulping down mouthfuls of sweet, cool night air, I stare up at the stars and place my hand over my heart as it hammers inside my chest. It has been so long since anyone has touched it in anyway that I seem to have forgotten it was there. Now it's back with a vengeance. . . and has settled itself on a priest.

_Good luck with that,_ says my head.

_Bring it on, _replies my heart.

Pulling my cell phone from my bag, I quickly text Rose**. **_Gone home. Call you tomorrow. Say bye to Emmett and Edward for me._

I feel pretty bad that I am leaving without a proper goodbye, but all I want is to go home. I place my cell back in my bag; removing my shoes, I slip them in to join it and pull out my flip-flops. Bending over to slip them on my feet for the walk home, I hear Edward call my name.

"Bella?" He would find me now wouldn't he, when my butt is sticking up in the air like a mountain top. Fan-fucking-tastic.

I stand up quickly, smoothing down my dress and hair before turning around.

"Edward?" I reply, trying to make it sound like a question; not wanting to appear so eager that I recognise his voice after less than twenty-four hours.

"Are you leaving already?" he asks. I'm not sure whether it's my imagination running away with me, but he seems to sound a little disappointed.

"Yes . . . I have work tomorrow." _oh, and if I spend anymore time with you I won't be able to control myself._

"May I walk you home? I would like to see you safely to your door." He is standing there with his hands crossed behind his back and his eye swelling badly. The perfect combination of gentleman and bad-boy. My heart gives a little squeeze and my mind starts mentally undressing him.

"I would like that. Thank you."

We walk side by side, his hands still crossed behind his back.

"I'm sorry Jacob hit you," I blurt.

"Why are you sorry? It wasn't your fault. You have nothing to apologize for."

"Did he apologize to you?" I ask.

"Yes, he did actually. He didn't realise that I am a priest, and seeing us dancing upset him. He seems to be laboring under the misapprehension that he is your boyfriend."

"He isn't."

"Good," came his quiet reply. Not quite believing what I have just heard, I keep talking.

"Did you forgive him?"

Edward laughs. "Of course. That is my speciality remember?"

It was my turn to laugh, maybe a little manically. "Yes, how could I forget?"

Yet it was easy to forget—far too easy.

As we reach my door, I stop and turn to him. At this point in the night, I would usually invite him up for coffee.

"Thanks for seeing me home."

"My pleasure," he replies, and taking my hand, he slowly raises it to his lips and kisses it gently. "Goodnight, Bella."

As he walks away I have to lean against the building to recover from the singularly most romantic moment of my life.

**Edward's POV**

I open my eyes to an angel. My face should be hurting, yet her touch eases my pain.

"Are you an angel?" I ask, and watch as her eyes glaze over; a hint of a smile plays over her lips.

"That boy must have hit you hard because Bella is no angel—more of a horny little devil." Emmett's voice booms above me, and then I find myself on my feet. Bella looks embarrassed at his proclamation, and I say quietly, "Well, you're an angel in my eyes."

"I need some air," she says and without looking at me, she races to the door. I feel awful; I hadn't meant to upset her, only to compliment her. Only wishing to see her smile.

I go to follow her so that I can apologize, but find my path blocked by the owner of the fist that had connected with my face moments ago.

"Sorry man, I didn't know you were a priest," the boy says. " I get pretty jealous when I see Bella dancing with someone else—usually she dances with me. I have nothing to be jealous of, right. . . because you're a priest."

I stare intently at this huge man, and wonder why Bella would dance with someone so possessive and childlike.

"Are you her boyfriend?" I can't help but ask.

"Yes," he says with certainty. As I continue to look at him, he seems to falter under my steady gaze. "Well, no. I guess she is."

"Perhaps you should ask her what she believes," I say coldly. "Now excuse me, please." He steps aside, but as I go to pass, he places his hand on my shoulder.

"Hey, err, I'm forgiven, right?" he asks.

"Of course," I reply automatically. Shaking off his hand, I head quickly towards the door.

In front of me, Bella is bending over and showing a tremendous amount of leg. "Bella?" I ask, trying to get the wave of lust that has just washed over me under control. I cross my arms behind my back to decrease the desire to touch her.

"Edward?" she asks turning around. I notice she was bending over to place flat shoes on her feet. Shoes that you can comfortably walk in.

"Are you leaving already?" I ask.

"Yes . . . I have work tomorrow," she replies. I realise that she has changed shoes to walk home. . .alone. Well I can't allow that; harm could come to her, and I would never forgive myself if it did.

"May I walk you home? I would like to see you safely to your door." The words are out of my mouth before I have given my mind a conscious command to say them.

"I would like that. Thank you," she says and I feel wonderful. I keep my hands firmly behind my back as we walk to her building. My fingers itch to reach for hers, but my conscience won't allow it. Dancing in a club in the darkness, I had known the feel and touch of her body, and it lingers within me. It has cracked opened a door that I had kept firmly shut my entire life, and I am fearful to open it fully or to shut it again completely.

As we walk, she confirms the young man, whose name is Jacob, is not her boyfriend. I find myself rejoicing—something I have no right to do.

When we reach our destination, she turns to me to say goodnight.

"Thanks for seeing me home."

"My pleasure." And it really has been; she makes me feel alive. She makes me feel. . .like a man. I reach for her hand and kiss it gently. A gesture I hope will convey what I think of her. "Goodnight, Bella."

I turn and walk away from her, even though I do not want to.

_Forgive me, Lord._

**A/N Thank-you my wonderful beta's Leanne Golightly and Isabel Southwell. Your grammar skills leave me in awe. **

**Thanks to everyone that left a review, I love you all a little bit. **

**Thanks Illicit Writer who has been pimping this story all over the place and made me a banner. **

**Look up any one of the names above and you will find stories that leave mine in the shade.**


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my twisted mind.**_

_When we reach our destination, she turns to me to say goodnight._

"_Thanks for seeing me home." _

"_My pleasure." And it really has been; she makes me feel alive. She makes me feel. . .like a man. I reach for her hand and kiss it gently. A gesture I hope will convey what I think of her. "Goodnight, Bella." _

_I turn and walk away from her, even though I do not want to._

_Forgive me, Lord. _

**Bella's POV.**

_I can feel his lips on my throat, his hands on my skin, caressing my body and setting me alight with his touch. His strong hands move upwards and fist into my hair, pulling me closer; his tongue finds a welcome entry into my mouth. I grind against him so hard that our bodies can get no closer. He finds my throat once more with his beautiful mouth, and his tongue snakes out to probe just below my jaw line, making my eyes roll back and every inch of me tingle._

"_Oh, don't stop, Edward. Don't stop."_

_His hands are everywhere now; searching, until they find what I want them to. Without a moment's hesitation, his thumb finds my clit. Rubbing little circles, he has me panting for more…_

**Ding dong.**

The door bell interrupts my sordid fantasy. With a huge groan, I throw my head back on the pillow in frustration. I was pretty close to my peak just now; thoughts of Edward had me hot anyway without making them sexual. Switching off my faithful rabbit, I pull on my robe and pad to the front door to find out who has just interrupted the best solo sex I have had in ages.

Yanking the door open, I find myself staring at a huge chest. Looking upwards, I see Jacob's face staring intently at me.

"Hey, Bella…" Jacob stops mid sentence and really looks at me. "Who's here with you?" he asks accusingly, pushing the door open and stepping inside like he owns the place. I stand in front of him, blocking his path.

"There's no one here. Why would you think that?" I try to push him out of the door again, but it's no good. It's like pushing against a brick wall—he is just so damn big.

He side-steps me, and I nearly fall flat on my face because I'm pushing so hard.

"You have that look, Bella, that's why. I know that look. Jesus, I mean, I see it all the damn time when we are in bed together. If it's that priest, I will kill the perverted bastard."

"Jacob, I don't know what you're talking about. There's no one here—certainly no priest," I call after him as he strides towards my bedroom.

"Don't give me that, Bella. I saw the way you looked at each other." He places his hand on my bedroom handle.

"Fine, go on in. When you see how wrong you are, I want an apology, and then I want you out of my home," I say and cross my arms, glaring at his back as he steps into my room. When he doesn't come out immediately to apologize, I head in after him. I expect to see him rifling through the closet, or checking under the bed for a semi-naked Edward.

_If only_

What I find is him sitting on my bed chuckling to himself—with my vibrator in his hands. Cue major embarrassment, which I cover up with forced nonchalance.

"Want to borrow that, do you?" I ask, raising one eyebrow questioningly as I lean against the door frame.

"Bella, you don't need this," he says with a grin. "That's what I'm here for." He throws my rabbit down on the floor and holds out his arms expectantly.

For one long moment, I wonder if I should step into them.

_Don't you dare! _my heart screams at me.

_Well, you could just close your eyes and pretend, _argues my head.

My heart wins.

"No, that's not why you're here, is it? You're here about something else."

Jacob's arms slowly fall back to his sides, and a sadness descends on his face, making him seem much older than he really is. His shoulders sag and his whole being seems to deflate. He stares at the floor.

I suddenly know what's coming; like a train about to derail, I can't stop it, only watch with horror as the inevitable happens.

"Don't you know how I feel about you, Bella?"

I don't answer, I just stare, suddenly feel, vulnerable, guilty and angry at the same time. My silence has him lifting his head; his eyes search my face and I have no idea what he finds there, but the little spark of hope that was in his eyes leaves them.

It's official—I have never felt like more of a mega bitch in my life.

"You love me," I finally choke out. It's my turn to drop my eyes.

"You don't love me, do you." It's not a question, it's a statement of fact. It hangs in the air between us, daring one of us to speak first. The silence stretches out, getting more and more awkward until finally, I can take it no more.

"I think you should leave." My cold tone surprises even me. Jacob rises from the bed without a word; he stands in front of me and bends down to kiss my forehead. I stiffen as he then leans in close to my ear.

"It's not a crime to love someone, Bella. It's a gift. Remember that." Taking a long breath, he stands straight, and then steps away from me towards the door.

I panic then, not sure what to do. I know I should let him walk away—I know that's the right thing to do. He deserves better than me and more than I can give him, yet some sick part of myself follows him to the door. He doesn't look back once just keeps walking straight out of my apartment and towards the entrance doors of the building.

I follow him until I am standing at the main doors, watching his retreating back practically run down the street—away from me.

Tears fall unbidden from my eyes. No, I don't love him. I will miss him though. Yet that's not the reason for my tears: I am a bad person, plain and simple.

"Sorry," I call out, not loud enough for him to hear as he turns the corner out of my street.

**Edwards POV**

I have walked this street around ten times now. Back and forth. Back and forth. I am fighting with the desire to go back to Bella's building, as I have a strange feeling that she needs me. She needs comfort in some way.

_Why have you sent her into my life, Lord? Is she a test?_

I know I will not receive an answer, and I don't expect one. For the first time in my life, I find myself questioning my vows.

I have known the love of the Lord my whole life. His path had seemed the natural one to follow.

Losing my parents at the age of eight in a car crash had devastated me, and it was Father Carlisle that had saved me. He had assured me they were in heaven, and that I would one day see them again. He had known me since my birth, and taught at the orphanage where I had found myself after my parents' death. When he suggested that I follow in his footsteps, I saw no reason not to.

He was like a father to me. I had always craved his approval, and the look on his face when I had told him that I was joining the priesthood made me happier than I could ever remember being. I had never questioned that decision, I had never been given a reason to, until now.

How could she have such an effect on me in such a short time?

_Love._

Could that be the reason? I push that answer away. No, I love my work. I am satisfied at a soul deep level. At least, I think I am.

I pinch the bridge of my nose in frustration. Taking a deep breath, I decide that I must quiet the nagging doubt inside me. I will walk past her building, but I will not go in, or disturb her. I will simply walk past. I don't know if that will let me know if she is okay, but it may quiet this feeling inside of me.

Purposely, I stride back the way I have come. With each stride my heart soars a little, but I ignore it.

As her building comes into sight, I stop. A man who seems vaguely familiar is leaving. Shortly after Bella appears, I recognize him. Jacob. The 'non' boyfriend.

If he is not her boyfriend, what is he doing leaving her apartment? I look at Bella again and I take in what she is wearing—just a short robe.

Jealousy so sharp that it hurts punctures my chest.

I can see that she's crying—that boy has made her cry, and you don't cry over someone you don't care about. As her priest, I want to go to her and comfort her—offer her a willing ear to listen to her sorrows. Yet, as the man that I am now aware exists insides myself, I want to comfort her in other ways; and I don't want to listen, I want to ask questions.

My head is a jumble of conflicting emotions, and I am frozen in place as if I am made of stone. I watch as she mouths something that looks like, "sorry" then she turns and goes back inside.

I stumble away from the building, back to my church—my safe haven. A place where I hope I can find answers to the questions that are burning into my soul.

**A/N Thanks to leanne Golightly and Isabel Southwell my beta's.**

**I am off on holiday in two days, so at least two weeks till the next update, but those who review will get a sneak peak.**

**Lemon's are coming my wonderful reviewer's, slowly but surely. That's the best way for things to 'cum' right? *sniggers and waves bye***


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer—I own nothing but my Priestward loving self.**_

_As her building comes into sight, I stop. A man who seems vaguely familiar is leaving. Shortly after Bella appears, I recognize him. Jacob. The 'non' boyfriend._

_If he is not her boyfriend, what is he doing leaving her apartment? I look at Bella again and I take in what she is wearing—just a short robe._

_Jealousy so sharp that it hurts punctures my chest._

_I can see that she's crying—that boy has made her cry, and you don't cry over someone you don't care about. As her priest, I want to go to her and comfort her—offer her a willing ear to listen to her sorrows. Yet, as the man that I am now aware exists insides myself, I want to comfort her in other ways; I don't want to listen, I want to ask questions._

_My head is a jumble of conflicting emotions, and I am frozen in place as if I am made of stone. I watch as she mouths something that looks like "sorry," then she turns and goes back inside._

_I stumble away from the building, back to my church—my safe haven. A place where I hope I can find answers to the questions that are burning into my soul._

**_Bella's POV_**

I pull the covers over my head and groan as my alarm clock beeps purposely by my side. I reach out and wave my hand in the general direction of the annoying noise, thankfully cutting it off mid-beep. This morning I feel like the walking dead, and as I drag my ass to the bathroom to glance at my refection in the mirror, I realize that I look like it, too.

I had a total of two hours sleep—thanks to Jake's late night visit making me feel like the queen bitch of all of bitchdom. Sleep eluded me because every time I closed my eyes; all I could see were his sad puppy dog eyes and then his retreating back.

I have treated my best friend like shit, and thanks to my own selfishness and stupidity, it seems as though I have lost him for good.

Would it be so hard to lie to Jake? To tell him what he needs to hear? He is a good man and he would take care of me, but that isn't who I am. It's true love or nothing. I can't settle down with someone unless there's butterflies.

So I had tossed, turned, and felt awful for hurting him. Then, when I had settled in my own head that I had done the right thing, I began to think of Edward.

Have you ever noticed that it's easier to day-dream in the dark? Ironic really, I guess. I dreamed of Edward. I played over many scenes. Not all of them sexual, either—believe it or not.

The more I thought of him the more I noticed—Butterflies.

An infinite amount of them fluttering inside my stomach and up my throat every time I thought of him. Edward gave me butterflies.

I gave up the idea of sleep after that, and just languished in my own little fantasy world. The last time I had glanced at the harsh red numbers on my digital alarm clock they had read four am, and my alarm wakes me at six.

As I stare at my reflection, I realize the only way I'm going to make it through the day—shit loads of coffee and very clever make-up. After showering, I start on my face. I don't have bags under my eyes, I have suit-cases. What the hell—they were worth it, fantasizing over Father Edward was a very enjoyable, if a little sinful, pastime.

And that's what I do all day. During routine visits to give injections and the paper work in the office, I think of Edward. I know it's no good, of course, because what good can come of falling for a man of the cloth? But the heart wants what it wants.

This goes on for a full two days. Day and night, he is never far from my thoughts. I just wish there was something that I could do about it. I feel so frustrated that I can't have him—like a toothless kid in a candy shop.

Lunch with Rose that changes all that.

We meet on Wednesday at Starbucks—something we have routinely done for longer than I can remember. After ordering myself a venti hazelnut latte with two extra shots because I'm still not sleeping well, and Rose a grande de-caff skinny mocha. No caffeine for her now she has a bump on board. We sit at a table to chat.

"So how pregnant are you exactly?" I ask.

"Six weeks," Rose replies with a huge smile on her face, her hand subconsciously rubbing her belly.

I do the mental math and grin wickedly, "So you were pregnant when you got married"

"Yes, can you believe it. It makes the day even more perfect."

"You had a shotgun wedding," I say laughing, then continue. "That's why your tits looked so great—hormones. And there I was thinking it was just an amazing bra."

Rose takes it all in her stride. It's like she is cocooned in happiness—nothing is bursting her bubble.

"So where did you and Edward end up on Sunday night then? Surely you didn't crack him already?" Rose takes a sip of her coffee and stares at me over the rim with her eyebrows raised, waiting for the juicy gossip she seems certain I will deliver. I hate having to disappoint her.

"He walked me home."

"And…"

"And nothing. Well not exactly nothing—he kissed my hand when he wished me goodnight."

"That's it?"

"That's enough, isn't it? I mean, how many priests walk women home and kiss them goodnight?" I ask Rose almost desperately. I have gone over and over this. In my head, I have made it this huge thing. I need her to confirm that it's a big deal. Priests don't go around acting like that; It has to _mean_ something.

Rose takes another sip of coffee, places it down on the table, and puts her hands in her lap. Her eyes never leave my face.

"Why are you doing this, Bella?" Well that question comes out of the left field.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you can have any man you want—and let's be honest, you usually do. So why this unobtainable man?" Trust Rose to get straight to the point.

That's what I love about her; she always says what she means. So I give her the one answer I have. It's the answer I know she will understand and not question. She will see that this isn't just some selfish little mission to pull a guy.

"Butterflies, Rose. He gives me butterflies."

"That's the answer I was hoping for." she replies. She pushes her hand towards me then, and when she removes it she leaves a piece of paper behind. I take it and open it. It's a phone number.

"Is this what I think it is?"

"Bella, you had best not be shitting me about the butterflies here, because it took me forever to convince Emmett to give me Edward's number. We both know what you are like, but even he could see the chemistry between you two. That's saying something. We both know how dense he is. It took him six months to figure out that I was flirting with him."

The rest of lunch passes in a blur. The entire day does. All I can think of is how to go about phoning him. I mean, I can hardly just phone him up and say, "Hey there, this is Bella—the girl who rubbed against your hard on and got you punched in the face. Oh and by the way how are the vows going?"

Around six I decide that I should just text him. That's safer.

By eight I have composed fifty separate witty messages.

By ten I have settled on the safest.

_Hi, this is Bella Swan. We met Sunday evening. This is my number if you ever need to contact me._

I hover over the send button for ten minutes before finally sending it. I wait for a reply.

I wait two whole fucking days!

Finally, on Friday evening as I open a bottle of red and have my phone in hand to dial for Chinese food, my cell beeps. I look at the message expecting it to be Rose, as we had been sending each other dirty jokes all day. When I see that it's from Edward, I nearly choke on the mouthful of wine I have just taken.

_Hello, Bella. Thank you for your number. I hope you are well. I have been thinking of you all week. Edward._

I read the message at least twelve times and then sit down on the sofa with a thud. Chinese food forgotten, I begin to write back.

_Why have you been thinking of me? Bella._

I hit send before I have the chance to chicken out. If he has been thinking of me then I want to know why. Is he as confused as I am? Or does he think I am a whore whose soul needs to be saved. I stare at my phone waiting for a reply.

_I saw Jacob leave your house that evening after I left you. You seemed upset. I am sorry if I am over stepping the mark. Edward._

Oh, shit. What the hell must he have thought? Seeing Jacob leave my place. He definitely thinks my soul needs saving. I immediately type a reply.

_We had an argument and I hurt his feelings. That's why I was upset. _

I hit send, and then before I really have a chance to analyze what I am doing, I type another text.

_I have been thinking of you, too._

Hitting send immediately I hold my breath. My phone vibrates and I almost don't want to look at the screen. Like a naughty child, I peak at it out of one eye, my face screwed up and my shoulders hunched.

_Why have you been thinking of me?_

So what do I reply to that then? A million possibilities go through my head, from sweet to obscene. I settle on the truth.

_I like you._

I hit send and wait. Let him interpret that as he wishes. If he doesn't feel the same, if he chastises me, at least I will know where I stand. My phone beeps. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding in.

_And I you, far more than I should._

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. I let out an excited squeal, pulling my knees up to my chest and kicking my feet in the air. I read it over and over, smiling so wide my face aches.

_Can I see you soon?_

I hope he will say tonight, or tomorrow.

_I can see you Sunday at church._

Well, that's not what I'm expecting. I'm not sure what to say to that, so I try to keep it light.

_It's a date. Bella._

_If only. Edward. _

My fingers itch to type more, to convince him to meet me outside the church. My phone buzzes again. I look at the words and felt a stab of guilt.

_Bella, I am sorry. I should not have said anything. I shall see you on Sunday—as your priest._

The poor man, he must be so confused. I will help un-confuse him on Sunday. It was a date after all.

**Edwards POV**

I spend the week volunteering for anything that needs doing, keeping myself busy and out of temptation's way. Night is the worst time, all alone with my overly analytical brain. I think of her constantly.

The dreams are heaven and hell rolled into one. I have never seen a woman naked in the flesh, yet that does not stop Bella from entering my dreams. Her perfect naked form is within my vision but just out of reach. It doesn't take a genius to figure out the meaning of my dreams.

I triple my amount of prayers, and know I should go to confession but cannot put the feelings I have into words.

On Wednesday, I receive her message. I do not reply. I don't know what to say. The dreams from that night follow me into the daytime. I can look no one in the eye, sure that they can see the sin within mine.

By Friday evening, alone in my room, I have come to a decision. I will have to transfer. I will go to another parish. If I cannot distance myself from Bella mentally, then I will have to do it physically.

I fall asleep—she follows me there. I finally hold her in my arms. When her lips touch mine and her hand caresses my face, everything in my world turns on a kilter. I pull her against me with an urgency that rules my whole body. I kiss her again and again, marveling in the sweet perfection of her lips on mine. She whispers against them, "Don't leave me, Edward." That is the moment I awake.

Without thinking, I grab my cell and tell her what I have wanted to all week. That I have been thinking of her.

Within moments I get a reply, but within those few moments, I manage to get a handle on myself. She asks why I have been thinking of her. I want to tell her. Because she is beautiful—because she is haunting my dreams—because I want her. Sanity reigns and I tell her it is because of what I witnessed on Sunday evening. I feel like a fraud and I want to tell her how I feel jealousy so sharp it hurts. How that, if I was with her now, I would take her in my arms. Yet I don't. My dream is fading and my self control returning.

Then she tells me she has been thinking of me too. I have to ask why. Does she feel the same, or does she just see me as her priest?

_I like you._

I type my reply before I can lose my nerve, and to Hell with the consequences.

_And I you, far more than I should._

She asks if she can see me. I want to see her, but how can I do that? I am her priest.

I feel ashamed and elated all at the same time. I tell her that I can see her Sunday at church. I have to be strong—It is enough just to know she thinks of me, too. She feels the same and I am not alone in this torturous, amazing feeling.

_It's a date. Bella._

_If only. Edward. _

I must stop now. I cannot continue with this. I can offer her nothing, not even myself. She deserves more and I will not deny her anything she deserves. I am her priest. I must be strong. I shall pray for forgiveness and go to confession. Bella shall not be corrupted by my lack of morality.

_Bella, I am sorry. I should not have said anything. I shall see you on Sunday—as your priest._

I press send and bow my head. I have done the right thing, so why does it feel wrong? And why do I long for Sunday to be here?

**A/N, Thanks to my beta's Leanne Golightly and Isabel Southwell and to Illicit Writer who is still pimping out this story everywhere.**

**I have set up a facebook page under the name Becky Sparkles, look me up for teasers and things or just a chat. **

**Hello to all you newbies who found me from The Fictionators, there are now 165 of you who have me on alert. *I do a little happy dance around the room***

**Maybe next time some of you wonderful readers can leave me a review? Those who do get the usual sneak peak of course. xx**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:- I own nothing but my perverted mind. **

_She asks if she can see me. I want to see her, but how can I do that? I am her priest. _

_I feel ashamed and elated all at the same time. I tell her that I can see her Sunday at church. I have to be strong—It is enough just to know she thinks of me, too. She feels the same and I am not alone in this torturous, amazing feeling. _

It's a date. Bella.

If only. Edward.

_I must stop now. I cannot continue with this. I can offer her nothing, not even myself. She deserves more and I will not deny her anything that she deserves. I am her priest. I must be strong. I shall pray for forgiveness and go to confession. Bella shall not be corrupted by my lack of morality._

Bella, I am sorry. I should not have said anything. I shall see you on Sunday—as your priest.

_I press send and bow my head. I have done the right thing, so why does it feel wrong? And why do I long for Sunday to be here?_

**Bella's POV**

Sunday comes around at a torturous pace. I long to see him so much that I find myself taking a walk Saturday morning, straight past the church, but no matter how many times I crane my neck around the railings to see into the church, I don't catch a glimpse of him.

I think of texting him again but something stops me. Some warning in my head telling me that if I do then I will scare him off. He is breaking his vows with his feelings for me, and I have to remember that. So rather than text him or see him—or do any of the things I really want to do—I go to visit my father instead.

We haven't spoken since the previous week when our argument had led to my last drunken evening in Jacob's arms. I hate it when we argue, so I decide to take a drive there and spring a little surprise visit on him. I may not get on brilliantly with Charlie, but he is a great dad and an even better person. He raised me single handed from the age of eight, after my Mom left us both for some guy.

As I pull my car into the driveway, I notice that his truck is still here. Charlie mostly fishes on a weekend, but I would have been more than happy to track him down on the lake. His being home has simply saved me some time, though I'm looking to waste time—to keep my mind off a certain sexy someone. I'm not sure whether it's a good thing or a bad thing that I don't have to hunt him down.

I let myself in through the back door and stroll to the kitchen expecting to find him there. There's no sign of him, so I open the fridge and grab a Dr Pepper before making my way towards the living room.

I am really hoping to surprise Charlie, but it seems I'm the one who's getting the surprise—and not a good one.

There on the sofa is my father—butt naked and being ridden like a race horse—by none other than Sue Clearwater, his best friend's wife.

I stop in my tracks. Both of them seem to be pretty into it, which despite being completely gross, means that I can probably sneak out of here without being noticed. I start to back up very slowly, retracing my steps back around into the kitchen

"Charlie! Oh, Charlie, that's it. I'm cuming, baby. I'm cuming"

Sue's voice starts to ring out around the house, and at this point I give up trying to back up slowly and basically sprint down the steps and back to my car. I'm not quick enough and I hear my father's voice call out.

"Call me chief, baby."

I think I may be scarred for life. I'm not even joking. No one needs to see or hear that. Ever.

What the hell is my dad playing at anyway? That's his best friend's wife in there. I think about bursting back in and confronting them both, but then I think about my own situation. Wanting someone you can't have is sweet torture, and they are both consenting adults—consenting _old _adults, and it's none of my business. I swallow my revulsion and the little bit of bile in the back of my throat from seeing that shit, and then head back to the house. I use the front door this time, and I knock.

It takes a while for my dad to get to the door; when he does he is shirtless and looks a little shifty. I plaster the biggest, fakest smile on my face, and throw my arms out.

"Daddy, sorry about last week. Am I forgiven?" He looks a little taken aback, but steps forward into my embrace anyway.

"Sure you are, Bells. Err, come in." Charlie says, quickly glancing behind him.

"Let me just grab my cell from my car," I say, giving them both time to sort themselves out, and allow Sue to leave if that's what she wants to do.

"Okay, honey. I'll grab you a drink from the kitchen." He glances down at the Dr Pepper that's still in my hand. He looks at me, then back at the Dr Pepper, and back to me again. It's obvious he realizes that I have already been in the house. He doesn't say anything, though, just turns red, mumbles, and heads towards the kitchen.

I head back to the car to "pick up" the cell that is already safely in my pocket. I seriously consider just jumping in and driving away at break-neck speed, but I turn around, and with a deep breath, I head back into my old home.

Sue is still there—that surprises me; I thought she would of scampered. She is smiling at me but she looks flushed. I _do not _want to think about why.

We chat together about this and that. Some sick urge has me asking after Harry and her kids. She replies easily without a trace of guilt, while dad shifts uncomfortably in his seat. After half an hour or so, she makes her excuses and leaves.

Charlie and I are standing in awkward silence at opposite sides of the room. So I do what I do best when I want to get myself out of an awkward situation—I crack a _really bad_ joke.

"So does Sue _cum_ here often?"

Charlie just stares at me open mouthed. I don't think he can believe that I just said that, and I can't help but laugh at him, standing there slack jawed and wide eyed. Then he looks at me sternly, which only makes me laugh harder. Soon I have tears in my eyes and I'm making that weird choking noise, laughing so hard I can't breath. I have to hold on to the counter because I am doubled up.

Charlie lets out a sigh and then starts to laugh, too. I have to stagger towards the kitchen chair and sit down.

Eventually, I calm down enough to wipe the tears from my eyes and smile at Charlie. He smiles back.

"Bells, let me explain…" he begins, but I hold up a hand, cutting him off mid sentence. I stand up and go over to where he is sitting. I hover behind him, with my arms around his shoulders, and kiss the top of his head.

"Don't, Dad. It's your business, not mine. You don't owe me an explanation." Charlie breathes a sigh of relief and an idea comes to me.

"I will keep my nose out of your love life if…you keep yours out of mine."

"Humph" is the only reply I get, but I think it's a deal.

I stay most of the day. We slip into our easy, comfortable, if somewhat old routine. I make food and Charlie watches the game. We talk briefly about my job, but my love life is never mentioned. We sit mostly in companionable silence.

When I go to leave, Charlie gives me a huge hug. Holding me by the shoulders he looks down at me and says, "Bye, Bells. Don't be a stranger, honey, but give me a phone call next time, okay?"

I smile, "Sure, Dad. I love you."

"I love you, too, Bells, and I know I said I would stay out of your love life but…"

"Dad." I growl in warning.

"Well, Bells, you have the look of a woman in love. Just promise me you will let me know if I ever need to call before visiting as well, okay?"

He kisses me on the top of the head, and I'm too shocked at what he has just said to reply. I just huff and walk back to my car.

On the drive home, I think about what my dad is doing. I have never known him to have a woman in his life since my mom. Has it been going on long? Are they in love? There are a million questions that I want to ask him. He will only tell me when he is ready, though—that much I am sure of.

My dad is a good man. He might not be doing a good thing right now, but that doesn't mean that I love him any less.

Good people do bad things sometimes. But do priests? That was the question I mulled over for the rest of the journey home.

When Sunday finally arrives I am so nervous that I get the hiccups. I can't focus on anything. I can't decide on what to put on. It feels like I'm getting ready for a date. Well, we had both called it a date, so I guess it is.

Dressing to please God and Edward is proving to be harder than I thought. Too much cleavage for God seems like too little for Edward. I have to make him see that he wants me physically and emotionally . However, I have no experience with making men want me emotionally, only physically. So I show plenty of cleavage—doing what I do best.

I practically skip to church, I'm that eager to lay eyes on him.

As I enter, I skim my eyes around the interior of the church. They rest on the statue of Christ on the cross, suspended from the wooden beams at the front of the church. I have to admit that I feel a stab of guilt. Christ gave his life to save us from our sins, and here I am planning to steal one of his flock.

The guilt evaporates immediately once I lay eyes on Edward. I know instantly that he is looking at me—I can feel his gaze warming the back of my neck. I turn around with a smile on my face; he holds my eye for only a second, but it's long enough for me to see the guilt and confusion there. The longing was there, too; he wants me as much as I want him. So, when he drops his gaze without smiling back at me, I don't worry, or let it affect me. I watch as he goes into the confessional booth.

Now is the moment to make my move.

I wait for my turn to confess. I have already decided that I won't ask for forgiveness—wanting him is not wrong in my eyes and I won't behave like it is.

I sit down and I can sense him the other side of the grill; his breathing fills my ears, the smell of him fills my senses. I want to reach through the patrician that separates us and touch him.

"Hello, Edward."

"Hello, my child. have you come for confession?"

I take a deep breath and begin with what I have been rehearsing all night.

"I am here to confess, yes, but not to be forgiven. Because I don't believe I have done anything wrong."

I hear him take a shaky breath and he tells me to continue. I shift closer to the partition and lower my voice to a seductive whisper.

"I have thought about you all week, Edward. I have dreamed of you." I stop for a moment, to give him a little time to process that. I remind myself that I have to take this slowly. I could scare him off at any moment. I hear his voice, which is so low that if I hadn't been listening for it, I would never have heard it.

"Continue…please"

"In my dreams, Edward, I kiss you. I feel your lips on mine. I feel your arms around me and all of you against me…like when we were dancing. It's so real that when I dream of you I can smell you. I can taste you on my tongue. When I wake to find that you're not there, I feel empty."

Again, I wait. I can see the outline of him through the patrician, and I swear I can see him running his hands through his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it and shaking his head

"Bella," I hear him mutter. "Don't."

"Why not Edward? I want you to hear my confession. Since you told me that you like me, you're all I can think about, I daydream of you constantly. I dream of holding your hand, and taking long walks. About making you dinner, and making you laugh. I long to hear you laugh, but most of all…" I say, and lean so close to the partition that my forehead is pressed against it. "I daydream about you making love to me."

Edward's hand touches the partition and he runs it downwards as if he were caressing my face. I can hear that his breathing has quickened.

"Bella, please don't. I can't give you those things. Please stop" His voice is husky.

"I'm not asking you to give them to me. I'm only asking that you hear me confess them."

His hand is still against the partition, so I place my own on the other side. As if by their own will, both of our fingers push against the gaps, trying to make physical contact with each other. When they do, I hear his quiet moan echo my own.

I feel like I'm on fire. Jesus, if he can do this to me with his finger tips, just imagine what the rest of him is capable of.

His forehead presses against mine, and I feel small locks of his wayward hair that have fallen through the gaps in the partition against my face.

"Bella, I don't want you to confess these things, because I can't forgive you for them. I want you to feel these things. I feel them, too."

"Edward."

"Bella."

We say each other's names with a longing so strong that it hurts. We stay where we are, leaning against each other separated by only a thin piece of latticed wood.

"I need to see you," Edward whispers, and I send up a silent prayer of thanks.

"Meet me tonight. Do you know the Well Care veterinarian Center? I can meet you there anytime," I say. My work place seems the safest place to meet him. No one will be around apart from the horses.

"I know it…I asked Emmett to show me where you worked."

"Tonight, then. at eight. I will be waiting for you, Edward."

I get up and, it actually physically hurts me to walk away from him, but I know that I will see him soon.

**Edward's POV**

As Sunday arrives, I feel my resolve weakening. I have still not been to confession, although I pray constantly and reverently for God to forgive me for my carnal thoughts and feelings. They never wane or falter.

I want to see Bella more than anything, yet the thought of it terrifies me.

I know that Father Aro can sense that something is wrong with me. Thankfully he assumes that I have not settled well here. I don't know how I will confess the truth to him. The only person I would consider telling my innermost thoughts to is Father Carlisle. But he is not here and as I glance around me, I realize that Bella is.

I stare at the back of her perfect neck. Her hair is tied up in a pony tail, and the beautiful expanse of creamy skin it exposes has me aching to place my lips upon it.

I pray for strength.

Bella turns around—she is so stunning that I feel a stirring in the pit of my stomach. I cannot look at her for too long, before I have to I take refuge in the confession booth. Listening to the problems of my flock—bored housewives that are having sex with their gardeners, bored husbands that have a mistress—I forgive them all.

There is so much sin in the world. I always believed that I was immune to the temptations of the flesh—until now.

I know the moment she enters the booth. Every muscle in my body tenses in reaction to her presence. I can make her out through the thin lattice wood: the outline of her face, her elegant neck. . . my breathing hitches as I fight the desire to let my gaze follow the line of her neck down to the smooth skin at the top of her breasts.

She smells like a flower filled meadow, sweet and seductive.

"Hello, Edward." Her voice fills the booth, caressing my ears. I want to have a normal conversation, but I can't.

"Hello, my child. Have you come for confession?"

"I am here to confess. yes, but not to be forgiven, because I don't believe that I have done anything wrong." Her words stir something inside of me. A sense of rightness?

Drawing a breath, I am once again assailed by her scent. I know that I should tell her to stop, ask her to have her confession with Father Aro, but she shifts closer to the partition. Instead, I ask her to continue.

"I have thought about you all week, Edward. I have dreamed of you." Her voice is no more than a whisper that sends shivers to the centre of my soul. We have dreamed of each other. I wonder if her dreams are like mine? It is a mistake to think of my dreams as my body responds accordingly.

"Continue…please," I ask because I need to know.

"In my dreams, Edward, I kiss you. I feel your lips on mine. I feel your arms around me and all of you against me…like when we were dancing. It's so real that when I dream of you I can smell you. I can taste you on my tongue. When I wake to find that you're not there, I feel empty."

Her words thrill me to my very core. Yet it is wrong to feel this. So wrong. My hands fist into my hair and I shake the lustful thoughts from my mind.

"Bella," I mutter. "Don't."

"Why not? I want you to hear my confession. Since you told me that you like me, you're all I can think about, I daydream of you constantly. I dream of holding your hand, and taking long walks. About making you dinner, and making you laugh. I long to hear you laugh, but most of all. . . I daydream about you making love to me."

What is this woman doing to me? Every part of me responds to her—my mind, my soul, and my body. I want to tear off this dog collar that is choking me and take her in my arms. To feel her soft lips against mine would be heaven itself.

The truth hits me like a freight train. I want this woman in every single possible way. She wants me, too, but how can I do this to her? Let her fall as deeply as I have when there is no possible way for me to catch her?

I run my hand down the partition, wishing that it wasn't there so I could caress her face. The fact that it is there, brings back at least a small proportion of my senses.

"Bella, please don't. I can't give you those things. Please. Stop" I manage the words, but my voice is heavy with lust.

"I'm not asking you to give them to me. I'm only asking that you hear me confess them," she says and then raises her hand to place against mine. I push my hand harder against the wood, trying desperately to feel her skin. When our skin makes contact, every cell in my body screams for more contact. I let my head fall against hers. It is no good—these things I am feeling, the way my body is reacting—I am powerless to resist.

"Bella, I don't want you to confess these things, because I can't forgive you for them. I want you to feel these things. I feel them, too." I say.

"Edward." Her voice caresses me, and the part of me that makes me a man reacts to that.

"Bella." It's all I can say.

We stay like that, unmoving, and it feels so right, that I give in to it. If God is testing me, then I believe that I am about to fail.

"I need to see you," I whisper.

"Meet me tonight. Do you know the Well Care veterinarian centre? I can meet you there anytime."

As wrong as I know it is, I send a prayer of thanks. I am thankful for my understanding friend who had not questioned my strange request earlier in the week.

"I know it…I asked Emmett to show me where you worked."

"Tonight, then. At eight. I will be waiting for you, Edward," she says and walks from the confessional booth.

I sit there in agony, a mess of conflicting emotions, breathing in the scent she has left behind.

**A/N, Thanks to my Betas, you wouldn't believe the amount of work they do to my chapters .**

**Thanks to all of you who reviewed and alerted this story. Everyone of you brought a smile to my face. **

**Those who review get a sneak peak of chapter ten, and believe me, you want it, it's a little bit lemon flavoured. *giggles and waves* See y'all soon.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer - I own nothing but my twisted mind.**

_We stay like that, unmoving, and it feels so right that I give in to it. If God is testing me, then I believe that I am about to fail. _

"_I need to see you," I whisper._

"_Meet me tonight. Do you know the Well Care Veterinarian Centre? I can meet you there anytime." _

_As wrong as I know it is, I send a prayer of thanks. I am thankful for my understanding friend who had not questioned my strange request earlier in the week._

"_I know it…I asked Emmett to show me where you worked."_

"_Tonight, then. At eight. I will be waiting for you, Edward," she says and walks from the confessional booth. _

_I sit there in agony, a mess of conflicting emotions, breathing in the scent she has left behind._

**Bella's POV.**

Eight o'clock can't come fast enough. Waiting is like foreplay—a slow, torturous teasing of the senses. The anticipation of seeing him, touching him, kissing him, has me unable to eat or think straight.

I watch the clock and check the batteries as the hands are moving so slow. I shower—twice and brush my teeth three times. After the fourth change of outfit, I give up waiting and leave. It's seven pm. I arrive at my destination just after seven-twenty.

I let myself inside the huge white building where I work. There are no people around at this time of night because everyone finishes up at six, but if anyone sees me, then they would think nothing of it. We often keep sick horses on the premises, and it's not unusual for me to check on them when we are closed.

The only horses we have stabled at the moment are an old foster mare and foal. As I walk to the big indoor, straw filled stalls, I watch them idily, scratching the old mare behind her ears, and letting the foal gently snuffle my fingers.

The mare is a black and white Gypsy Varner, with huge feathered feet. Her fostered foal, a classy, leggy Warm Blood huddles by her feet. They are a strange combination of tradition, and young innocent beauty—thrown together because one had lost it's mother and the other it's child.

They had taken to each other immediately and had a true bond. Observing them, knee deep in straw, content and happy, I only wish my life was that simple.

I hear the bell and glance at the clock. Seven-thirty.

I turn away from the horses and go back to the main entrance. Taking a deep breath I open the door. Edward is early too, and looks as nervous as I feel.

My breath catches as I stare open mouthed at his utter perfection. He is wearing all black, and worryingly, his dog collar is in place. His smile, shy and sweet, gives me hope. He only just meets my gaze before looking back down to his feet.

He seems to shuffle a little uncomfortably and mumbles, "Hi."

I feel nervous and awkward as if I were seventeen again. All this morning's confidence has evaporated without the partition between us. Or maybe it's the dog collar reminding me about the sin I am committing, and the fact that I want to commit far worse.

"Come in, Edward," I say, and motion with my hand for him to enter. He steps inside, running his hands through his hair and looking about—looking everywhere but at me.

Neither of us says anything more as we walk through the long white corridors, and I head naturally towards the mare and foal that I was previously petting. Once we get there I lean over the door watching the foal feed contentedly from its foster mother.

"How long have you worked with horses?" he asks, and for the first time he looks at me. He is standing a slightly behind, so if I want to catch his eye I have to turn a little, but I decide against it. Instead, I continue to watch the foal as I answer.

"I have worked with them since I qualified to be a veterinarian when I was twenty-four. So, three years, professionally, but I have loved them since I was a little girl. My dad finally gave in and got me riding lessons when I was eight, that was when the love affair began." I stretch out my hand and the inquisitive little foal pushes his nose into my palm.

"How long have you been in the Church?" I ask.

"Forever." His reply sounds desolate. Taking a breath he continues. "I was ordained five years ago."

He looks at his hands and twists them nervously. I congratulate myself on mentioning the only thing he probably doesn't want to talk about.

"Do you like them? Horses, I mean," I ask, trying to steer the conversation back into more comfortable territory.

"I've never really been around them," he answers. Looking at him from the corner of my eye, I see he looks nervous, his hands repeatedly running through his hair. I wish I could run my fingers through it, but I resist the urge to do so.

I reach into my pocket for a tip-bit.

"Here," I say, and place it in his hand. He looks at the small green square and then brings it up to his nose to sniff. He holds it out to the foal in his fingers.

"Not like that." Grabbing the sleeve of his shirt, I pull his hand back from the foal's open mouth. "Not if you don't want to get bitten, anyway." I gently stretch his hand out flat. "Keep your palm and fingers flat, like this." Placing the treat in the center of his palm, I tentatively put my hand under his and move them forward together.

The little foal's velvet muzzle takes the treat, and I watch with a smile.

"You know if God created anything more beautiful than a horse, I think he kept it for himself," I say.

"I can't agree with you there." I hear Edward's reply. As I give him my full attention I find he is staring at me so intently, with a passion in his eyes that could scorch us both.

My hand is still underneath his, until he turns so that we are palm to palm. Never letting me leave his gaze, he slowly begins to trace the outline of my finger tips with his own. Drawing his fingers down towards my palm he traces little circles.

I am powerless to move. The onslaught of blissful sensation that are traveling down my arm, and his hypnotic eyes are to much. I have to remind myself to breathe.

He steps in closer to me, and leans his face towards my ear. I feel his cheek brush against mine and his breath against my neck. He smells of soap, tea tree, and mint—almost edible.

His voice is no more than a whisper. "I think you are the most beautiful creature I have ever, or will ever see—on Earth or in Heaven."

When he pulls away, my knees are weak. I want him to kiss me so bad that I'm worried I might actually jump on him if he doesn't do it soon. My stomach is doing somersaults and I feel light headed.

It's not like me not to go straight for what I want, but I am listening to some sixth sense. Watching his gorgeous green eyes, I see that they are filled with confusion.

They flick down to my lips, and I can't help slipping my tongue out a little to wet them in anticipation of what is to come. The slight but significant action makes him groan. I take this as a good sign and move a little closer to him. Our hands are still connected and he raises his towards my face. He uses the back of his fingers to trace from the tip of my ear, along my jaw line but stopping at my chin, leaving my skin tingling from his touch.

My hand falls from his and my breathing becomes shallow and fast as his other hand snakes around the back of my low pony tail. He caresses the tiny hairs at the back of my neck and they stand on end. Shivers running down my spine.

"I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be doing this," he mutters, and shakes his head a little.

Before he draws away from me, and ignoring my sixth sense, I grab the front of his shirt. The crisp cotton feels smooth against my finger tips, and I pull him closer.

"Yes, you should, Edward. Let me show you why." I push myself up on my tiptoes, and place my lips on his.

It's meant to be the most gentle of kisses, and at first it is, our lips joining once, twice, three times. His hands move to hold my face while his thumbs trace my cheekbones.

I open my eyes to look into his, and there is no confusion there now. Only a white hot heat that makes me want to drop my panties immediately.

I kiss him again, a little harder this time. I catch his top lip between mine, and the stubble scratches me softly. He responds by moving one of his hands around to the back of my head, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss. The other hand falls to my waist.

I run my palms from his chest, up around his neck, to the back, where I finally get my fingers in that hair of his. It feels soft against my fingers, and I grab handfuls and tug gently. As I do so, my top rides up half an inch—enough for his fingertips to touch my bare skin, and the sensation sends shivers through my whole body.

"Bella," he groans, and pushes me against the stable door. His mouth is as hungry as mine, and as I let my tongue trace his lips, he opens his own in welcome. He tastes of mint—fresh and clean. Our tongues collide and massage each other, so wet and warm.

The sound of our lips moving together and our heavy quick breaths is multiplied a thousand times and it's all I can hear. He fills all my senses. There is only him.

I push my crotch against him, trying to create some friction to ease the throbbing.

His hand that's on my waist inches up inside my top, and begins tracing my spine with tortures slowness. Every tiny hair on my body rises, as if in anticipation of his touch. He travels downwards, moving under the waist of my skirt until he encounters the top of my panties. His fingertips trace the top edge of the material.

"Don't stop," I plead.

"Bella, what are you doing to me?" he whispers in my ear, and his voice is thick with longing. Then he takes the lobe in his mouth, biting gently as his hand slips half an inch lower.

"Yes, Edward. Yes."

I grind into him, and I can feel his cock as hard as marble through the thin material of his trousers, digging into my stomach.

His hand leaves the top edge of my panties, and I moan a little in frustration. I want to feel his hands on me.

I'm not frustrated for long as hesitant fingers run the length of my skirt. They stop at the hem and dig into my flesh with a firm pinch. He hitches my leg up around his waist, the material of my skirt falling back to expose the flesh at the top of my thigh. Hooking my calf around his waist I feel his belt biting into the skin there. His hand runs up and down my leg sending wave after wave of pleasure through me.

His cock is now perfectly placed and I couldn't be happier—well, unless we were naked—then I would be walking on air.

My lips are at his neck, kissing his pulse point. My tongue flicks out as I nibble and suck. His skin tastes of salt, and as I hear him murmur his appreciations, I can feel the vibrations through my lips.

I can't help it as my hips buck against him, causing the sensations that are building inside me to soar.

His lips are back on mine—harder and more urgent than before. The hand that is around the back of my neck moves to the front. It lingers there, tracing circles, and then slowly moveing downwards over my shirt and around to the side of my breast. His thumb just grazes my nipple gently over and over. They're already so hard, aching for a stronger touch—for the feel of his skin on mine without the layer of satin between us.

I keep bucking against his erection, helping my orgasm to build, wishing the friction would burn through our clothes. I realize that he is thrusting, too.

I'm dry humping a priest against a stable door. I suddenly have the urge to laugh at the absurdity of it, but I snap out of that train of thought.

"Bella. Bella. Bella," his voice whispers against my ear. His breath is hot against my jaw and I'm riding on a wave of pleasure.

"Edward," I cry out as the sensation explodes from between my legs, radiating out through my body. My muscles clench over and over as I pull his mouth to mine.

I can feel a warm sensation against my panties.

I've just made a priest cum in his pants—I'm going to hell for sure.

Suddenly his hands are no longer on me. His lips have left mine, and as he pulls away my hold on his neck breaks, I find my hands by my sides. The heat of him is gone so suddenly that I feel disoriented.

He is shaking his head. "What am I doing? I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I reply, and try to move against him once more, but he steps back.

"I have to go," he says and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I shouldn't have come." With a shake of his head he turns from me, and heads back the way we came.

"Don't you dare leave me, Edward," I growl. I am furious with him all of a sudden. How could he be sorry about this? _This_ was right.

He stops and turns, and his face so sad it could break my heart. My fury dissipates, and is replaced by compassion.

"I don't want to. . ."

"Then don't."

"I have to, Bella. When I'm around you I can't think straight. What I have just done…I can only ask you to forgive me. You deserve better. I have nothing to offer you," he says and holds his hands out in front of him palms up.

"I don't want anything _but _you," I cry and step towards him, but he steps back, refusing to let me close the distance between us. "And what we have just done has sent me to Heaven and back for a few brief moments. It felt so good, Edward. No other man has made me feel like this."

He clenches his hands into fists, and spins round, walking stiffly to the exit.

"Don't you dare feel guilty over this. Everything about us feels _right_. There's no way it can be wrong," I call after him as he flees.

I don't follow, and I don't know how I feel.

Scrap that. Yes I do—I'm frustrated as Hell.

Glancing at the clock, I see I've been here for half an hour.

If I didn't know it before, then I know it for sure now—I am in love with him.

My skin still burns from his touch, and I feel his absence like a missing limb. I know we should be together—deep in my soul with such an intense certainty that it scares me. Even though he ran from me, I know that he knows it, too. I saw it in his eyes.

Locking the main doors, I turn to leave with a sigh. I had no idea it was possible to feel this happy and sad at the same time. It's as if I can feel the earth moving under my feet and can't keep my balance. That must be the reason it's called falling in love.

**A/N Okay, so how many of you are scrolling down and going, "Where's Edwards POV?" Don't worry, he is getting the whole of the next chapter, starting where this one stops. **

**If you would like to read Edwards POV of the above however, just let me know and I will send it to you. This is not a vain attempt at reviews (although they're always nice. lol.**** ) As you can PM me for it, or find me on Facebook, where it will be posted in my notes soon. **

**Please take into account when you read it, that it will not have been beta'd.**

**On that note, thanks to my beta's Leanne and Isabel. I love you guys lots and lots like jelly tots!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my twisted mind.**

"_Don't you dare feel guilty over this. Everything about us feels right. There's no way it can be wrong," I call after him as he flees._

_I don't follow, and I don't know how I feel._

_Scrap that. Yes I do—I'm frustrated as Hell._

_Glancing at the clock, I see that I've been here for half an hour._

_If I didn't know it before, then I know it for sure now—I am in love with him. _

_My skin still burns from his touch, and I feel his absence like a missing limb. I know we should be together—deep in my soul with such an intense certainty that it scares me. Even though he ran from me, I know that he knows it, too. I saw it in his eyes._

_Locking the main doors, I turn to leave with a sigh. I had no idea it was possible to feel this happy and sad at the same time. It's as if I can feel the earth moving under my feet and can't keep my balance. That must be the reason it's called falling in love._

**EPOV**

I leave the building as calmly as I'm able, but once I'm through the doors, I break into a flat-out run. I'm unable to comprehend the enormity of what I have just done. The pounding of my feet on the pavement accompanies the pounding of my heart and head.

Bella's face as I left was a picture of heartbreak and confusion. Those beautiful brown eyes of hers begged me silently to stay. How I want to go back and comfort her—to feel my arms around her once more. Yet I know that if I step into her welcoming embrace just one more time, I will lose all hope of being able to walk away.

I have committed a sin—a mighty sin—and I must seek forgiveness as soon as I'm able.

I consider going to Father Aro with my confession, but I don't trust the old priest completely. I don't know why. I have only my instinct to guide me, but something tells me that although he's serving God, he serves himself more.

As I reach the sidewalk, I hail a cab and jump in the back.

"Evening, Father," says the driver. "The Old Rectory, is it?" I nod in affirmation and stare out of the window, seeing nothing of the buildings that flash past as the cab speeds me towards church.

The whole time I sit here, I can feel the absence of her. The memory of her touch, her smell, and her taste, lingers within me. Even if I never see her again, I don't think that I will forget how she felt against me, or how she tasted on my lips.

I shake my head. What have I done? It's wrong, so wrong. I can't have these thoughts. They are a sin. I must be strong and walk away now. I have made my vows; I will serve God and no other.

Then the memory of my whispering her name like a prayer and worshipping her body assaults me. A small, urgent voice that I have previously ignored fights desperately to be heard. It had felt right—there was no denying it.

I shake my head again. Deny it, I will. What can I offer her? Nothing…_but yourself, _says a small internal voice, and as much as I try to ignore it, demands to be heard.

As we pull up to the church, I throw a ten at the cab driver, and then rush inside.

It takes me twenty minutes to change, pack, and head back out. I'm headed to Father Carlisle's parish in Port Angeles.

He knows that I'm coming, but knows nothing else. My voice on the phone must have sounded strained. He had known instantly that there was something wrong because when I had asked to visit, he had insisted that I leave immediately. He told me not to worry about explaining why I was leaving, and that he would smooth things over with Father Aro.

Carlisle has always understood me, even as a child. I have always seen him as an older brother rather than a father figure. I remember my father well. He was a great man. I remember my mother too—a beautiful, generous woman.

The love they had for each other was something that I have never forgotten, they would look at each other as if there was no one, and nothing else around them that could compare. I remember when I had asked my father how he had known that my mother was the woman he would marry. He had told me that it had only taken one look, and she had captured his heart. He had known from that moment that if my mother died then he would die the very next day. He could not survive without his heart, and it belonged to her.

To this day, how true that turned out to be still haunts me.

They had died just hours apart, and although they had both been severely injured in the accident, I still believe that if my mother had only pulled through, then my father would have, too.

How different would my life have been had that happened? Would I have become a priest?

I won't play the "what if" game. This is my life; I have made my decisions and they are mine, and mine alone.

The cab speeds toward Port Angeles, and I try to sleep. It's a fruitless exercise because every time I close my eyelids, her face is behind them.

How is it possible to feel so guilty and elated at the same time? I have defiled an innocent young woman, and yet, when she was in my arms, it didn't feel like corruption. Far from it. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I want her—I can't deny it. Yet it goes deeper than that. She has not only touched my base instincts, but she has also touched my very soul.

Carlisle is waiting for me outside. I don't know if he has figured out what time I should arrive, or whether he has been stood there for hours. Neither would surprise me.

I get out of the cab, and as I walk towards him, I can't meet his eyes.

"Son," he says, and puts his hand on my shoulder, squeezing firmly. I run my fingers through my hair, and raise my head to meet his eyes. I don't see anything but friendship and trust there, as always, but he hasn't heard my confession yet. It hurts me to think of the disappointment he will feel. I give him a weak smile as I turn away from him. I need to grab my bag from the boot of the cab. As I head back with it over my shoulder, I see that he's already heading into his Church. I follow and prepare myself.

"I can see that you are very troubled, Edward. Talk to me—tell me what is wrong."

"I need to confess, Father. I have committed terrible sins," I reply. Carlisle looks at me with understanding eyes.

"Edward, I have known you your whole life. I very much doubt that you have committed anything half as bad as you perceive it to be inside your own head."

"Please, Father, hear my confession. The shame of it is weighing heavily on my heart." Again I find my hands in my hair which brings back the memory of her hands tangled within it as she kissed me. I screw my eyes shut and sigh heavily.

Carlisle looks at me harder this time, and some of the amusement leaves his face. His eyebrows pinch together a little—a sure sign of the beginnings of stress in him.

He leads me to the confession booth, and as I kneel before the screen, I already feel better.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. My last confession was one week ago," I say and make the sign of the cross.

Bella's words came to me—about confessing but not wanting forgiveness. Was this why I had put off confession for so long? Because I didn't want to be forgiven? No, I must want and seek forgiveness. Without this need to be relieved of this sin, there is no point to my confession at all.

Taking a deep breath I continue.

"Father, I have permitted sexual thoughts about a woman. At night I dream of her. The dreams, Father, I can hardly bear to speak them out loud. They are sweet torture. I think of nothing but her, and I have put off coming to confession because. . . God forgive me, I enjoy them."

"Edward…" Carlisle begins but I cut him off. I need to get this out of me.

"It gets worse. I have kissed her…passionately, I have felt her body against mine and I…I …"

I can't go on. I can't—the shame overwhelms me.

"Continue, my child. God already knows of your sins, but I cannot absolve you of them if you don't confess them."

"I ..I got so excited when I kissed her that I ejaculated."

I sit there, and the silence hangs heavy in the air between us. I realize that he is waiting to see if I will confess anything more. "I am sorry for this and all the sins of my past life." I finish.

"Edward?" Carlisle's voice seems heavy with disappointment.

"Yes, Carlisle," I answer.

"Who is this woman?"

"Her name is Bella, Father"

"What does she mean to you?" His question is difficult to answer, and it takes me a short while to respond.

"I don't know, I'm so confused, but I think that she could mean…everything," I say quietly.

"Do you love her?" he asks me gently.

"I feel…something, Carlisle. Something I have never felt, but how do I know if it's love?"

"Faith, Edward."

"I have faith, Father."

"Yes, I know that Edward. I mean that love and faith are one and the same. Faith cannot be touched, tasted, or seen. It simply exists inside of you, and you know that it is there. Love is the same Edward. So I ask you again, do you love her?" There is no condemnation in his voice, only a little sorrow.

I sit for a moment and let go of the guilt, concentrating on the feeling that remains. It is warm and light, and it fills me with happiness.

"Yes, Carlisle. I do," I say with certainty.

"But what you are doing, Edward, you must know that it is not right." Again his voice is gentle. It shouldn't be. It should be disappointed and harsh. Somehow his understanding makes me feel worse.

The guilt crashes in, and the light feeling is once again weighed down.

"I know that. How can I seek forgiveness?"

"Do you truly seek it, Edward?"

"Yes, I do." I say earnestly.

"Do you still love your Faith, Edward? Do you still serve God?"

"Yes, I do."

"You can't serve God as a Priest and continue with this woman. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I do." I feel about five again, having no other answer to give.

"Think on these words, Edward. Galatians 5:16-17 - but I say, walk by the Spirit, and you won't fulfil the lust of the flesh. For the flesh lusts against the Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh; and these are contrary to one another, that you may not do the things that you desire."

"I shall, Father."

"For your penance, I ask that you say fifty Hail Marys and fifty Our Fathers. You may perform your Act of Contrition now, Edward."

"O, my God. I am heartily sorry for having offended you, and I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of Heaven and the pains of Hell. But most of all, because I have offended you, my God, who are all good and deserving of all my love. I firmly resolve, with the help of your grace, to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life. Amen." As I say the words, I truly mean them.

"I absolve you from your sins in the Name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. May God bless you and Mary pray for you. Give thanks to the Lord for He is good," says Carlisle.

"For His mercy endures forever," I reply. I give one more silent prayer of thanks to God for his forgiveness and make the sign of the cross, before rising from my knees and leaving the confessional.

Carlisle waits for me silently as I pay my penance. As I head back to him, I find that I can meet his eye now that I have God's forgiveness.

He puts his hand on my shoulder. "Come to my house now, Edward, and eat. I think we should talk as friends."

"I would like that very much," I reply and follow him out of the church to his home on the grounds.

Carlisle's house is simple and modest. As he cooks us a meal we sit in silence in his kitchen. I know that he won't speak first; he is not a man of many words, and the ones he uses are usually wise and meaningful. It is one of the many reasons that I became a priest, in the hope that I could emulate him in some small way.

As he places my plate down in front of me and sits opposite, we bow our heads and say grace. I pick up my fork and begin my meal—Carlisle doesn't. I know that he is waiting for me to talk to him. He sits there quietly, looking at me with irritating patience.

Eventually, I give up trying to eat and look back at him.

"So, what are you going to do?" he asks. I swallow nervously and drum my finger tips against the table. I wish that I had spoken first now, and started a conversation about something else. Anything else. The weather—the apocalypse—anything but this.

"About what?" I say, deciding to act dumb. I look back down at my plate. Suddenly, I have lost my appetite.

"Bella," he replies.

"I'm not going to do anything," I say honestly. It hurts.

"But you love her." Carlisle starts to eat now, chewing slowly and observing my reactions over his raised fork.

"Yes, but I also love God and my Faith." I glance at him quickly and then back down, pushing my potatoes around my plate.

"Edward, there is more than one way to serve God," says Carlisle, and I look back up at him again, but he is not looking at me. He is concentrating on cutting his steak into small precise chunks.

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused. I serve God already. My vows are made.

"Did you ever wonder why God would allow you to fall in love if he did not want you to?" Again, he isn't looking at me. If I didn't know better I would think that he was trying to persuade me to choose Bella over God.

"She deserves better than me." I lay my knife and fork down, and push my barely touched plate away. Carlisle's words strike a chord with me. I want to quash the small bubble of hope that I feel rising in my chest.

"Edward, you are a good man, and she would be lucky to have you." He does look at me now; he stares at me intently, trying to convey how much he believes in what he is saying.

"I am a sinner." My head falls into my hands.

"You have been absolved of those sins. Do you intend to commit them again?" Carlisle sounds angry, but I don't move. I don't want to look at him.

"No of course not," I mumble.

"Then, Edward, you're not a sinner." His voice is softer. He reaches across the table and I feel his hand touch my own. "Edward, you know the act of sex is not a sin within the confines of marriage."

"I know, but I can't marry. I _am_ a Priest." I look up now, with my hands held out in front of me in a gesture of complete surrender.

"Yes, I know, and therein lies the problem." Carlisle gets up from the table and begins to clear our plates. Neither of us have eaten much.

"I'm committed to God, Carlisle," I say with complete conviction.

"Oh, I know that, Edward, but can you live a happy life without her?" he asks as he reaches the sink. His back is turned towards me.

"I can live a faithful and fulfilling one."

"Is that enough?" He turns around and looks at me with an expressionless face. He isn't hoping for any answer other than the truth, so that's the answer that I give.

"It has to be."

"And if it isn't?"

For that I have no answer. My head simply falls back into my hands, and a sorrowful sigh escapes me.

He says no more. A man of few words, but he gets to the heart of things.

I don't sleep well. Carlisle's words play over and over in my head. He hadn't openly told me what to do, and he would never presume to, but he has opened my eyes to what could lie beyond the guilt. If I were not a priest I could be with her, but to give up my Faith. Could I do that?

_There is more than one way to serve God_…

His words stick in the forefront of my mind. Can I have my Faith and have Bella? If I choose not to be a Priest—if I step down—does that mean that I have stopped believing? The problem lies in that I love what I do. Being a Priest is the singularly most satisfying thing in my life.

I toss and turn in my bed, mulling over everything that had transpired in the last week. Has it only been a week? How can that be?

Sleep does not come and eventually, I give up. I get out of bed and I pray. I pray for answers; I pray for a sign.

I must fall asleep at some point during my prayers, as I find myself on the rug next to my bed in the morning. With the new dawn comes a decision. I can't remember consciously making a choice, but I know with such certainty that I can't help but trust it.

I will go to Bella and see her. I must spend time with her. I will get to know her while committing no sins of the flesh. I know now that I won't be able to control my thoughts around her, but I will _try_. I realize that God will forgive me for the thoughts that I can't help, so long as I pray for forgiveness.

If I truly love this woman—enough to step down from my position—and she loves me in return, then God will guide me. If I am truly meant to follow the path of the Priesthood, then he will show me that, too.

**A/N: This story has been nominated for a Shimmer Outtake award (Best comedy) I am amazed, and totally flattered. Voting starts on 29****th****—three days time. **

**I considered holding back this chapter, so that I could ask you all to vote and give you a link, but the chapter was ready and I cant wait for anything. (Seriously, I still wake up at 4am on Christmas morning.) Instead I'm going to work my butt off to get another chapter out before voting closes, and give you a link then. **

**Thanks, as always to my beta's. You guys, rock my polka dot socks! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer - I own nothing but my twisted mind.**

_I will go to Bella and see her. I must spend time with her. I will get to know her while committing no sins of the flesh. I know now that I won't be able to control my thoughts around her, but I will try. I realize that God will forgive me for the thoughts that I can't help, so long as I pray for forgiveness. _

_If I truly love this woman—enough to step down from my position—and she loves me in return, then God will guide me. If I am truly meant to follow the path of the Priesthood, then he will show me that, too._

**Bella's POV**

It's been three days—the longest three days of my life—because I haven't heard from Edward.

I haven't called him and I haven't texted him. I haven't done anything at all really, except maybe mope. I'm moping pretty well right now; I'm on my second bottle of red and fluctuating between sad and angry.

Don't get me wrong, I want to speak to him, but I refuse to get shot down. He knows how I feel; if he feels the same, he has a funny way of showing it.

He humped me then dumped me. Dry humped, yes, but still. . . humped and dumped. By a priest. Boy does it suck to be me right now. I mean, I feel really bad about the whole situation, but not in a "regretting it—it was wrong," sort of way. More in a "oh my God, I have ruined his life for being too forward, and now I'm going to burn in Hell" kind of way.

My heart knows that it's not true that he just got his rocks off and ran off into the sunset. I mean, I saw in his eyes how he felt—I saw the torture and confusion. Yet actions speak louder than words, and his silence is deafening.

My phone beeps purposely beside me—again. Another text from Rose. I haven't answered her in three days and she is starting to get a little pissed with me.

_Call Me! If you don't call me, I'm coming round and kicking your ass, Swan!_

Okay, scrap that. She is extremely only calls me Swan when I have really riled her.

Yet I can't bring myself to even try to text back, let alone call her. I mean she is going to kill me regardless of whether I call her or not. She told me not to fuck this thing with Edward up and I have already. Without actually catching the man I have managed to lose him. A new record for me.

My phone goes again and I stubbornly ignore it, not even reading the text. Pouring myself another glass of wine I shuffle though my iPod looking for another depressing song to listen to as I drown my sorrows. I find _Aero smith - I don't want to miss a thing. _Perfect. I turn it up full blast and sing along as I make my way to the kitchen, ignoring the banging from upstairs.

Time to be with the only men I need in my life—Ben and Jerry. Reaching into the freezer I pull out some Phish Food, and head back to the couch where I plan to wallow for the rest of this bottle of wine. . . And then maybe another.

The next morning I wake up on the floor, half way between the bathroom and the couch. I must have put some drink away last night because I don't remember how I got here. I was certainly either trying to make my way to or from the bathroom. I really hope it was from. Pushing myself up on my elbows I look for a puddle. That's a negative so I obviously made it to the bathroom; I just didn't make it back.

Clutching my head in my hands I groan, and crawl toward the sofa. I need to ring in sick. This can't _just_ be a hangover—I feel like I'm dying. Every part of me hurts, and the light is hurting my eyes. I tell myself that I must have flu, otherwise I wouldn't feel this bad. Now it's just time to convince my boss that's what is wrong with me.

I manage to drag myself to the sofa, but climbing on it seems too much of an effort, so I reach for a pillow with the intention of placing it under my head. I grope blindly and manage to knock one down; it falls on to my face and blocks out the light. I decide to leave it there. Darkness is my friend and it eases the pain—removing it seems too much trouble. I snake my hand towards my mobile, which I can see under the sofa. The red light flashes to let me know that I have messages.

Just as I'm reaching for it, it begins to vibrate and then it starts ringing. Pain shoots through my head and makes me sit up. The pillow falls from my eyes just in time for me to see that I'm closer to the coffee table than I thought. Too late to stop my momentum, my forehead hits the corner of it, making me see stars. I fall back down with a bump and now my head aches even more.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," I mutter. Then grapple for my phone, which is still ringing. My head may explode from the pain, and there are spots in my peripheral vision. I scowl at the screen as I see Rose's name displayed, and I decide to answer this time, if only to tell her she's to blame for any future brain damage I might suffer.

"What?" I practically growl.

"That's nice. Thank you very much. It's not like I tried to call you ten thousand times last night or anything. It's not like I was starting to panic that you could be laying dead in a ditch somewhere."

"Shhhh, hangover from hell. I'm sorry, okay?"

"Oh, you're _sorry_. Well that's okay then. That makes everything better." I can hear the sarcasm dripping from every word, but I can't bitch back because I'm starting to feel decidedly sick.

"Hold on—I'm going to puke," I manage to mutter, before staggering on legs made of jelly towards the bathroom.

"For God's sake, Bella," Rose screams at me, but luckily for my poor head the phone is no longer near my ear.

I can hear Rose giving me a dressing down on my behavior as I throw up, wash my face, and brush my teeth—which is a little hypocritical, considering that before she met Emmett she was twice as bad as me. She is still going as I pick my cell back up.

"…And today of all days to have a hangover, when you have had this day booked off work for ages. I hope you look as bad as you feel when Edward sees you. It's all you deserve."

Edward's name grabs my attention. I try to focus through the alcohol induced brain fog.

"Edward? Why would I be seeing Edward?" I croak.

"Because he asked Emmett if he could join us," Rose replies with exasperation.

"Erm, don't shout at me, but join us where exactly?" I ask as I rest my head against the cool mirror. It feels good against the rapidly swelling bump on my forehead.

"The zoo of course, with Emmett's niece, Alice. Don't tell me you forgot? You swore you

would come."

Groaning, I sit down on the toilet seat with a bump.

"Shit, Rose. I'm sorry. I didn't forget exactly. I've just had a lot going on this week."

"Of course, what with getting married, finding out you're having a baby, taking care of your husband's niece while her mom's abroad, and working ten hour shifts. I can see how someone as busy as you could forget…oh, hold up—that's me! Don't give me lame excuses, just move your ass, Swan. We will be there in thirty minutes." With that she put the phone down on me.

I look down at my rumpled clothes, there's vomit down my top, and my mouth feels like it's full of cotton wool even though I've brushed my teeth. All I really want to do is crawl to my bed and sleep for the next hundred years. However, I know that Rose will just knock down the door and drag me out with her anyway.

Plus, there are two things to cheer me up. One, it seems that I have booked the day off so no call to my boss to bluff my way through, and two—Edward. Despite cursing and crying over him last night, my heart picks up at the thought of seeing him.

I stand up and take a deep breath. Thirty minutes to make myself beautiful—I look again in the mirror and groan. It's mission impossible. My face is pasty white, my eyes are blood shot, and there's a huge bump forming between my eyes. I lean over and switch on the shower. Here goes nothing.

I want to look good, I really do, but I just can't seem to summon the energy. After my shower, I look at my hair dryer and straighteners, then at the hairbrush with a band around the handle, sitting side by side on my dressing table. As another wave of nausea hits, I grab the hair brush and pull my hair back into a wet messy bun.

Sitting down at my dressing table, I press my face against the cool wood, trying to breathe. Then add a liberal amount of moisturzer to my skin, but no makeup as I'm pretty sure my pores are leaking alcohol. I pull out my D&G sunglasses that cover half my face, as it's not fit for the outside world.

Clothes next. There's no way I can wear heels so I dig out my sweats—they will have to do. Comfort wins on hangover days, whether I'm seeing Edward or not.

My thoughts keep wandering back to him. My head refuses to believe that he is going to the zoo to see me, as he could have seen me any time he wanted if he had just called me. My heart doesn't believe that, though, and keeps skipping a beat when I picture his sweet, shy smile.

Thirty minutes later, my far too loud door bell starts to ring. It goes on and on and on. Someone obviously wants to lose a finger ringing my bell like that when they know I'm hung-over. Rose or Emmett is going to be so sorry. Storming to the door I yank it open.

"Enough already, you fuc…" My words die on my lips as I come face to face with the biggest pair of brown eyes I have ever seen.

"Hi," the little kid says. She is at eye level with me and is being held there by Emmett, who is grinning. The kid is dressed in a Disney Princess costume and her finger is still on the buzzer.

"This is Alice," Emmett says, and the little kid takes her finger off the buzzer so that she can offer me her hand to shake. She can't be more than four.

"Hi, Alice. I'm Bella," I say and I can't believe anyone so cute could possibly be related to Emmett. Until she leans into him and cups her hand to his ear.

"Bella looks like cwap."

"She sure does kiddo," he agrees.

"Should she really be using that word?" I ask as I turn to hide the smile on my face. I grab my bag from the little table near the door and lock up. He laughs and hitches Alice up on to his shoulders.

"Alice, that was a very bad word, but great perception skills. Next time, you can say Bella looks like poop, okay?"

I roll my eyes and jab him in the shoulder.

"Okay Uncy Emmey," Alice replies.

I stifle a laugh. "Emmy? Really?"

"Hey, the kiddo gets away with it, you don't—unless you want me to play heavy metal at full volume all the way to the zoo, drop it."

"Sure thing Em…mey," I say and dodge the shove he aims at me as we head out of the building.

"Just keep it up and see what it gets you."

I laugh and stifle the urge to give him the finger because Alice is smiling at me. I poke my tongue out instead.

As I get to the car, I do a double take. Emmett usually drives a red convertible, yet Rose is sitting behind the wheel of a Silverado 1500.

"What happened to the penis extension?" I ask, using my nickname for the obnoxious attention grabbing car.

"It's been relegated to the garage. This one is more family friendly," he says with a smile.

"What's a penis extchun?" asks Alice in her sweet little baby voice.

"A very pretty car," laughs Emmett, and gives her hair a ruffle.

Okay, mental note. Must curb my language around the kids.

"I want a yellow penis extchun when I'm big," Alice exclaims, clapping her hands in excitement.

I look at Emmett and shrug apologetically, "Well, look on the bright side, at least I didn't teach her pussy magnet."

"What's a pussy magn…" Alice starts to say.

"Who wants an ice cream?" shouts Emmett in desperation.

"_Me, me, me," _Alice screams as Emmett straps her into her car seat.

Hmmm, my mouth seems to be in gear before my head today. I blame the alcohol.

Opening the passenger's side door I smile a little nervously at Rose, not sure exactly how pissed she is at me, particularly after I've added such lovely phrases to Alice's vocabulary. She smiles back sweetly—a little too sweetly.

"You're in the back," she says. I look back and see why she is wearing a shit eating grin. There, in the back, is another kid. This one is a blond boy about the same age as Alice, and he is singing—badly.

I'm sitting between two four-year-olds for the entire journey.

I look back at Emmett. "Swap seats with me, Emmett?" I ask without much hope.

"Oh, so now you call me Emmett...not a chance. Jump in."

I climb over the little blond boy and sit in the middle with a sigh. He looks at me.

"I'm Jasper,"

"Hi, Jasper. I'm Bella."

"You're perdy," he says.

Now, this kid I like.

Then he takes up his singing again and Alice joins in. My head may explode at any moment.

"Why are there two?" I ask as I lean forward, glaring at them both for inflicting this torture on me.

"Jasper is Jessica from work's son. She is living on her own, so we offered to take him out with us. We thought Alice would have more fun with someone her own age to play with," Rose answers.

I lean back in silent acceptance as the noise from the two of them continues to assault my ear drums.

"Why is Edward coming?" I ask as I root around in my bag for the ear phones to my iPod, avoiding eye contact because I don't know what Edward may have said to them about me.

"He loves kids," replies Emmett.

"Oh," is all I say as my ego deflates. A little part of me had been hoping it may have been to see me.

Ear phones retrieved, I stick them in and drown out the two terrors beside me with the soothing sounds of Adele.

I feel sick, I look like crap, and I'm going to see the man I've fallen in love with who has studiously ignored me for three days. Sure does suck to be me today.

We arrive at the zoo after a torturous twenty minute journey. Adele had managed to drown out most of the kids' singing, but when Emmett had joined in with a rap version of _Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, _I gave up and even joined in a little myself. It's not like this headache could get any worse anyway.

As we get out of the car, Placing my too big sunglasses on my eyes, despite the lack of sun. I look for Edward, but there's no sign. I wish now that I had made more of an effort, but I figure that if he is blowing me off anyway, what does it matter if he sees me in old sweats?

Then I see him standing by the zoo entrance in all his priestly goodness, and I feel like I have been punched in the gut. I want him so much. I linger behind as we walk towards him.

He greets Emmett and Rose with a manly handshake and a kiss on the cheek; then he crouches down to Alice and Jasper.

"Hi, kids. I'm Edward. You must be Alice. Emmett told me just how beautiful you were."

Alice smiles shyly and shuts up for the first time since we have begun this trip. See—he even has a dazzling effect on four-year-olds. What chance do I stand?

"You're Jasper, aren't you? Well there must be some mistake because Emmett here told me you were four, but a big guy like you has to be at least six."

Jasper holds himself a little taller, smiles broadly and says, "I'm almost five."

As Edward stands up again, both kids reach for his hands. Now, I've never had any particular desire for children of my own but watching Edward interact with these two, I realize I have ovaries. they are literally crying out for this man.

I can't help but smile, and then he looks at me then.

"Hi, Bella." His voice is soft.

I know it should be awkward. I know I should be mad. I know I should be cold, hard, and barely acknowledge him, but I don't.

"Hi, Edward." Before I can say another word he is dragged away by the gruesome twosome toward the ticket office.

**A/N: If you would like to vote for my story in the Shimmer Awards go to**

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	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer - I own nothing…. **

_As Edward stands up again, both kids reach for his hands. Now, I've never had any particular desire for children of my own but watching Edward interact with these two, I realize I have ovaries. They are literally crying out for this man. _

_I can't help but smile, and then he looks at me._

"_Hi, Bella." His voice is soft. _

_I know it should be awkward. I know I should be mad. I know I should be cold, hard, and barely acknowledge him, but I don't._

"_Hi, Edward." Before I can say another word he is dragged away by the gruesome twosome toward the ticket office._

**Bella's POV**

He has a great ass. There's no denying it. Priest or not, that is one sweet ass. I've been enjoying the view because he's been walking in front of me for the last twenty minutes. We haven't really spoken apart from saying hello, and I don't know how to start a conversation with him. I'm tongue tied.

Alice has more energy than any child I have ever seen. She and Jasper are dragging Emmett and Edward around like dogs on leashes, and if this is what Emmet's genes do to a child, then I can only wish Emmett and Rose luck with their own kid.

Every so often Rose catches me staring at the object of my desire and smirks. She's finding the whole situation annoyingly amusing.

Note to self: I must get some sort of revenge. As I watch Alice drag Edward to look at yet another monkey and demand to be lifted up, I realize that if her child turns out anything like that little bundle of trouble, then that's revenge enough for me.

I stop to read one of the information boards next to the marmoset enclosure. A warm little hand slips into mine, and looking down I see Jasper smiling sweetly at me. Such a calm and cute little boy. I've never felt any maternal instinct around children, but I'm drawn to him. I'm not the only one. You can see people cooing at him everywhere he goes. Squeezing his hand I smile back.

Alice reaches over from Edward's shoulders towards Emmett, demanding that he play horsy all the way to the Zebra paddock. Laughing, I watch as the big lug does it gladly. Cantering away, he adds in the odd neigh and buck for good measure. He'll make a fantastic dad.

Edward, suddenly finding himself without a child to entertain, looks around for Jasper. His eyes fall on us walking hand in hand, a ghost of a smile crosses his face. Green eyes fix on mine for a thrillingly long time, and desire sweeps through me.

Walking towards him I'm so filled with longing that it feels as though my shoelaces are tied together; I may trip at any moment. If I did would he catch me? For a moment I luxuriate in the fantasy of the safety of his strong arms around me, saving me, and holding me tight.

Jasper grasps Edward's hand in his free one as we draw level with him, looking up at us both with his big blue eyes.

"Swing me?" he asks with the cutest grin. Who could say no to that face? It would take a stronger girl than me, and it seems a stronger man than Edward.

"Sure thing, Kiddo," he replies winking at him, and giving me a questioning smile to make sure that I'm okay with it. Smiling back, I shrug my shoulders, and so without a word we walk along, swinging the little boy up into the air every time he counts to three.

Clinging to Japer's hand, my heart batters my ribs as I slide sidelong glances at Edward's handsome profile. Every so often he looks my way and our eyes catch—my stomach trembles.

For a long time neither one of us speaks, but then we both talk at once.

"How have you been?"

"How are you?"

We catch each other's eyes and laugh nervously.

"Fine," we both reply.

Laughing together, we carry on swinging Jasper into the air without any conscious effort. All the awkwardness between us has slipped away; like pulling off a dust sheet to reveal something shiny and new underneath. Conversation becomes easy.

No longer do I see the animals in the cages surrounding me—there's only Edward. There's no sound but us. Everything and everyone has vanished; how considerate of them. We exist in our own private bubble. The only sound I register is Jasper's cries of joy every time we swing him into the air.

Edward is full of questions. He seems to want to know everything and anything I've ever done.

"What were you like at school?" he asks as we arrive at the tigers.

Jasper drops our hands now as he finds something more interesting than swinging to do. He insists that Emmett picks him up too so he can see the white tiger. Glancing at it sleeping in the sunshine I try to buy a little time. Eventually I blurt out the cringe-worthy truth.

"I was a total geek," I say. He smiles at that.

"Me, too," he replies.

"Not as big a geek as me I bet. I had glasses, bad hair, and a book permanently attached to my nose." I grimace at the memory, but I left that awkward girl behind in Forks. There is no need to dwell on it now.

Edward reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pair of reading glasses before placing them on his nose.

"Like I said, me, too."

He looks geeky hot in glasses. I wonder momentarily if there is _anything_ he wouldn't look hot in. Then I start to think about how hot he would look wearing _nothing_. It takes me a moment to drag my mind back out of the gutter, and I find him looking at me quizzically.

"Sorry, I was somewhere else for a moment," I mutter apologetically.

"Somewhere hot I hope," he says.

_You have no idea…_

We look at a few more animals before the gruesome twosome demand to be fed. We make our way to the picnic area.

Once there Rose goes super-mom on our asses by producing the best picnic I've ever seen. Emmett lifts the picnic basket he's been carrying around and puts it on the table. Rose begins pulling out about a hundred pieces of Tupper wear. Full of every fruit known to man, sandwiches with five different fillings, and to top it off…home made cookies and cupcakes.

Alice and Jasper dive in, followed closely by Emmett, who has a small mountain of food on his plate. Looking through the sandwiches, I methodically search for the ones I know Rose will have made especially for me.

"Here, is this what you're after?" Rose asks and throws me a tub. Inside I find my sandwiches filled with only jelly. No peanut butter and no spread, just the way I like them.

Edward watches as I check the insides.

"You don't like peanut butter?" he asks.

"Not in sandwiches," I reply taking a seat opposite Jasper and Alice. Rose and Emmett hem them in, on either side of the table, like bookends, to stop them making a break for it.

"Everyone likes peanut butter," Edward says with raised eyebrows, and takes a seat next to me. We have a lot of room on our side of the table but he leaves only a hair's breadth between us.

"I didn't say I didn't like peanut butter. I just said that I don't like it in sandwiches," I clarify as I start pulling the crusts off the bread. I can't believe Rose didn't cut them off. She knows I can't stand them.

"So how do you eat it then? On toast? On crackers?" Edward asks, whilst placing sandwiches on his plate.

"On a spoon," I reply. "Or on a knife, or my fingers. Whichever, I'm not fussy. As long as it's just peanut butter I'm happy," I answer, waving my now crust-less jelly only sandwich around as I speak.

Edward gives me a funny look and shakes his head. "If you say so."

It takes me a while to reply, thanks to a mouthful of food. If I spit crumbs all over him. I don't think he would be very impressed somehow.

"What do you mean, if you say so? You mean you don't have any funny food habits?" I ask, having safely swallowed. "Everyone has some strange habit—even if it seems perfectly normal to them it's odd to someone else."

"No, not me, or at least none that I'm aware of. I eat three meals a day, every day, nothing more," he replies, taking a bite of his own sandwich.

"That's a funny food habit," I say, and laugh as I put my half eaten sandwich down. My appetite is nonexistent around him thanks to all the butterflies in my stomach.

"How is it?" he asks leaving his own half eaten sandwich, mirroring my actions.

"No one I know only eats three meals a day. Don't you ever grab a bagel and coffee at eleven, or eat ice cream in bed?"

"No, I eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner. That's it," he says looking quite offended and examines his plate—a sandwich and an apple. His hand hovers over one of Rose's delicious looking cup cakes.

"Go on, I dare you," I say poking him in the arm. Picking it up he places it on his plate, and grins at me impishly.

Tipping my chin up and running my tongue over my teeth, I challenge him "Now eat it before your sandwich."

He cocks an eyebrow and picks up the cup cake again. Holding it for a moment and never letting his eyes leave mine, he raises it to his lips, but before it gets there his face breaks into an eye creasing smile and he puts it back on his plate.

"Let's take one step at a time, shall we?" he says shaking his head, and then picks up his sandwich. Rolling my eyes, I smirk at him but don't push the issue.

Sitting at the picnic table eating our lunch, the questions continue in earnest. So wrapped up am I in all things Edward that it takes me a while to realize we are being watched. Two sets of eyes, one brown and one blue, are watching us with great interest.

Alice and Jasper are sitting in identical positions—chubby little hands propping up their chins and their elbows on the table.

"Are you married?" asks Jasper.

"No, we're not," I reply mimicking their position, shifting my elbows a little wider apart than theirs so that eye contact is easier.

"You're going to get married one day, I can tell…and I'm going to be your bridesmaid," Alice says, with a grin.

"We can't. He's not allowed to." Raising my eyebrows slightly, I incline my head towards Edward.

"Well that's a bit silly. Everyone can get married." She looks at Edward. "Don't you want to get married? If you can't get married then how will you have babies?" Alice asks, biting her lower lip and looking confused. Which is nothing compared to the look on Edward's face.

"I'm a priest, Alice. I can never get married, so I will never have babies."

"My mom's not married and she still has me," Jasper says.

Alice looks at us both, screwing her little face up as she concentrates. After thirty seconds deliberating this piece of information, she turns to Jasper.

"Did your mom and dad love each other?" she asks. I feel like I'm no longer part of this conversation, so I pull my chin off my hands and sit up, but still listen to the children with interest.

"I don't know, I never met him," says Jasper looking down at the table.

"I guess they didn't then. That's why they didn't get married." Alice lowers her head and looks at Jasper out of the side of her eyes.

"I guess," he replies, smiling as Alice's hand touches his across the table.

"If you love each other, then you get married," Alice says with a simplicity I envy.

"Do you think you will get married?" Jasper asks Alice. He looks so sweet and hopeful, staring at the girl that seems to have captured his heart at the tender age of four.

"One day." She grins at Jasper. "When you ask me." With that she bounds from the table too quickly for anyone to grab her. "Let's go find some crocodiles," she says in a sing song voice, skipping away, and leaving us all trying to clear up and catch up in her wake.

Stifling the laugh that I can feel trying to bubble its way up from the back of my throat, I turn to look at Edward. He seems to be struggling to do the same thing.

After lunch we continue around the zoo. We get to feed the elephants and the giraffes, making both the children squeal with delight. Emmett and Edward have a child astride their shoulders, both looking like doting dads. It's not until they turn around and you get a flash of a crisp white collar that you realize one will always be a Father but never a daddy. My heart aches over the loss of the possibility.

We find ourselves in a little theatre for a bug show. A very brave and slightly eccentric-looking British woman brings out bug after bug, from hissing cockroaches to tarantulas. She holds them all and tells us interesting facts about them.

Now I'm an animal lover through and through but bugs…they just make my skin crawl. The kids predictably love them and want to sit in the front row, touching every bug as it's offered round to their eager little hands. I decline each time with a vigorous shake of my head and a shudder that creeps up my spine and over my shoulders. Yet Edward takes every one and passes it along to the kids without even a shiver.

I'm not sure if I'm impressed or grossed out that he can touch them without flinching, but the British woman whose name tag says "Natalie" is definitely impressed. So much so that after her little show is over, she grabs Edward's arm to tell him more about the gross little insects she seems to find so interesting.

Now I'm not jealous exactly, just a little peeved that I've lost his attention. It's like I've been standing under the heat of his gaze, letting it warm me with its spot light, and suddenly it is switched off, and I'm left feeling the chill.

You know what's almost worse than losing his attention to this annoying—and I have to begrudgingly admit—pretty British woman? That everyone is hanging on her every word. Both the kids and Emmett and even Rose. Can't they see that she is blatantly flirting with Edward? Is he flirting back?

I can feel the angry tension in my face as I clench my teeth, and I flex my fingers in and out of fists.

"Well, I suppose you must love all of God's creatures," Natalie simpers at Edward, flicking her hair and touching his arm with one hand, while placing a grasshopper in his hand.

_Well, I suppose you must love all of God's creatures_.My inner-six-year old wants to mimic.

"Yes, I love them all," Edward replies, looking directly at me he dazzles me with his smile. Just like that, I feel much better.

As the day continues, I answer a million more questions from Edward, and I joke with him about being worse than the Spanish Inquisition. This comment leads us both to confess to a mutual love of Monty Python.

"A priest can't have watched The life of Brian?" I ask. That's got to be like…blasphemy.

"Well, we all do things we shouldn't when we are young," he answers with a quirk of an eyebrow and a lop-sided grin. And there, just for a brief second, is a flash of the Edward beneath the collar. Remembering all too vividly, I blush.

As the colour rises in my cheeks, he seems to realize what he's said, and the playful smile leaves his lips. He turns from me momentarily. When he turns back he changes the subject swiftly.

Making our way to the cars with two very tired children, I am thoroughly bored of talking about myself, and tell him so.

"Really? It's the most interesting conversation I've ever had," he replies with a sad look. He opens the car door for me.

"Oh, it's not that I didn't love talking with you, the opposite in fact," I say, blundering over my words in an effort to show that he wasn't boring me. "I just wish we had talked about you a little more."

"Maybe we could meet for coffee…as friends…sometime?" he asks shifting from foot to foot and not catching my eye.

"That would be great," I reply, trying and failing not to grin like an idiot.

"Are you free Saturday morning?"

My head is telling me to play it cool, and that I should tell him I will check my dairy and let him know. However, my head is no longer in charge as I blurt out. "That sounds perfect. There's a Starbucks two blocks east of my apartment. Do you know it?"

"Yes. Shall we say eight in the morning?"

"Definitely. See you then." Waving goodbye I climb into the car before exploding with happiness.

**Edwards POV**

The more I get to know her the more perfect she seems. I can't wait to meet her for coffee.

The car pulls away, and I wave as it pulls out of the parking lot and out of sight. Finally letting my hand fall to my side, I turn around, and find myself staring into a pair of deep set brown eyes which are oddly familiar to me. It takes me a moment, but eventually I recognize them.

"Hello, Jacob," I say, unable to hide the shock in my voice.

"Father," he replies curtly. "You seemed to have fun today."

"Yes I did, thank you. Were you at the zoo too?" I ask, taking a slight step backwards. The boy is invading my personal space.

"Yes, I saw you several times," he says, and I can't help but think of the phrase, "If looks could kill."

"You should have come over and said hello. Anyway…goodbye, Jacob. It was nice to see you again," I reply, walking swiftly away. The boy makes me uncomfortable.

"And you, _Father_…and you."

As I move away, I feel his eyes boring into my back. I try to ignore the sense of foreboding that sweeps over me.

**A/N. I am very sorry about the wait and the fact that I didn't reply to a single review in the last chapter. There are reasons and you will find them on my profile. Thank you to all of you that read and review I really do appreciate it. Even if I forget to tell you sometimes. **

**As for my lovely beta's Leanne and Isabel —you're the best! **


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